


100 Ark Street

by smallerontheoutside (theinvisiblequestion)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Babies, Babysitting, Children, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Family, Fluff, Jasper Jordan/Maya (minor), Monroe/Roma, Monty Green/Nathan Miller (minor) - Freeform, Multi, Occasional angst, Octavia Blake/Lincoln (background), Parties, Pregnancy, Single Parents, occasional language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-07
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-10 21:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 90
Words: 57,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3304649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theinvisiblequestion/pseuds/smallerontheoutside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy moves into a new apartment; he couldn't have asked for better neighbors.</p><p>An epic years-long journey through the lives of the residents of 100 Ark Street.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> ([character faces](http://smallerontheoutside.tumblr.com/post/115913134694/the-characters-of-100-ark-street-marcus-kane))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke introduces herself to the new neighbor in 4C.

The third apartment on Clarke’s floor is only vacant for a couple of weeks before someone moves in. She makes cookies (from store-bought dough, because she’s not much of a baker) and brings them over, intending to invite him to the new-neighbor party she’s going to throw for him, but when he answers the door he’s in nothing but a pair of sweats and his dark hair is sticking up everywhere and she’s not even sure he’s awake.

(It’s four in the afternoon.)

“Hi. Sorry. Did I wake you?”

“Hnh?”

“I’m Clarke. I live in 4B. Did I wake you?”

He rubs his face and yawns. “Kinda.”

She hands him the plate of cookies. “Uh, well, welcome to the building. I was going to invite you to a little party I’m throwing this weekend, but maybe I should come back later.”

“I can’t,” he says immediately. “I work nights.”

“Oh. Well. Sorry I woke you up.”

“Thanks for the cookies,” he says. He doesn’t shut the door until after she goes back to her apartment.

 


	2. Old Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven wants to know about the new neighbor.

Raven comes over later, cradling a bowl of macaroni and cheese with hot dogs and barbecue sauce (she's an adult, honest) and asks Clarke about the new neighbor.

“I took him cookies.”

“Him?” Raven wiggles her eyebrows.

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I took him cookies, and he said he works nights. He was asleep. He isn’t coming to the new neighbor party.”

Raven’s eyes widen. “He’s hot, isn’t he?”

“I never said anything about that.”

“You didn’t have to. If he wasn’t hot, you wouldn’t have told your story all out of order.”

Clarke huffs. “I didn’t say he was hot,” she insists, crossing her arms. “But, if you must know, he’s almost as attractive as the guy in 6A.”

“ _No_.” Raven sets her bowl on the counter. “What’s he look like?”

“Dark hair, dark eyes. Tall. Muscular.”

“Ooh! What’s his name? I should send him a _thank you for being a good neighbor_ card. Preemptively.”

Clarke blinks, thinking about her conversation with the new neighbor. “I have no idea,” she says.

Raven gives her shit for the rest of the night about being too flustered by sleepy hot guy to be a good neighbor and ask his name.


	3. Mail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke learns her neighbor's name.

Clarke learns his name a week later, when a piece of junk mail addressed to “Mr. B. Blake” in apartment 3C ends up in her mailbox. She knocks on his door after dinner. When he opens the door, he’s dressed in a navy blue security uniform, hair slicked back, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. He holds up a hand and shuts the door in her face. Half a minute later, he opens the door again, running a hand across his mouth. 

“Sorry about that,” he says. “What can I do for you?”

“First of all, sorry for waking you up the other day.”

He shrugs. “You brought cookies.”

“Right. Well, anyway, I just wanted to bring you this.” She handed him the envelope. “It was in my box.”

“Oh. Thanks. It’s Clarke, right?”

She nods.

“These are probably for you, then.” He reaches behind the door and hands her a stack of junk mail, all addressed to her.

“Wow. That’s… a lot…” She flips through them. “Ah, yes.” She taps the one from GEICO. “Do you think they do insurance on invisible cars?”

He laughs. “If you’ll excuse me, Clarke Griffin, I have to get to work.” He steps out of his apartment and locks the door behind him. “Thanks for the mail, though. And the cookies.”

“Sure, B. Blake.”

“It’s Bellamy,” he tells her as he walks down the stairs. “The ‘B’ is for Bellamy.”


	4. New New Neighbor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke investigates a noise in Bellamy's apartment.

She doesn’t see Bellamy much over the next few weeks. He knocks on her door to return her plate and thank her—again—for the cookies. Her junk mail is _constantly_ ending up in his mailbox, until Clarke decides to put all of Raven’s junk mail in 6C’s box as payback. Raven is mortified when the handsome engineer who lives there catches her in the middle of a TV marathon (that’s been going for sixteen hours already), and then Clarke and Raven agree to get their own mail from now on.

Then Clarke doesn’t see Bellamy at all, because he sleeps all day and works all night. Nobody visits him, except one morning when Clarke passes a petite woman with a baby on her way to work. The woman is standing at Bellamy’s door, knocking furiously, and Clarke thinks about stopping to tell her that Bellamy probably isn’t home yet, but the little woman gives her a dirty look, so Clarke just keeps walking.

Bellamy comes over that night, looking flustered, and asks if she’s got a sturdy box about _yea_ big, and she empties a box of old magazines that she hasn’t gotten around to making a mixed media piece out of. He thanks her and hurries back to his apartment like he forgot to turn the stove off.

A week later, she’s forgotten about the scary lady and the incident with the box, mostly because she’s had like eight deadlines come up all at once and she hasn’t left her apartment in days because she’s been so wrapped up in finishing her designs. She’s laying in bed sketching when she hears a tiny wail on the other side of the wall. She tries to ignore it, thinking it’s the kid of some lady friend of Bellamy’s, but the crying persists. She gets up and storms over to Bellamy’s apartment—it’s his master bedroom that shares a wall with hers—and when he answers the door, he looks like he’s been run over by a train. The crying has stopped, but Clarke isn’t going to let the matter drop so easily.

“Bellamy Blake, why do I hear a _baby_ crying in your apartment?” she snaps.

“I don’t know. Might be the _baby in my apartment_ ,” he shoots back.

“Why is there a baby in your apartment?”

“Because she lives here.”

“You don’t have a baby,” she says.

“Yeah, I do.”

Clarke blinks. “Since _when_?”

“I don’t know. What’s today?”

The pieces fall together in her mind. The scary lady, the box… “Bellamy Blake, I swear to god if that baby is sleeping in a _box_ —“

The baby in question starts to cry again. “She’s hungry,” he mumbles, and he leaves to get her. He doesn’t close the door, and normally Clarke wouldn’t just barge in but she’ll be damned if she’s not going to investigate.

When Bellamy walks into his kitchen cradling a little bundle of blankets in the crook of one elbow, Clarke realizes it’s a _baby_. Like, a _baby_ baby. “How old is she?” Clarke asks.

He shrugs his free shoulder as he preps the bottle of formula. “Couple weeks,” he says, filling the bottle under the tap. He shakes it a little and he’s about to give it to the baby when Clarke snaps at him.

“Jesus, Bellamy, what are you _doing_?” Clarke grabs the formula from him. Not only is it still chunky, it’s cold. “You’re going to get her sick like that.” She’s amazed, frankly, that he’s managed to keep the baby alive this long. She shakes it vigorously, puts it in the microwave for a few seconds, shakes it some more, tests it on her arm, and then hands it back to him.

“Thanks,” he grumbles, holding the bottle with the same hand that’s holding the baby. He runs a hand through his hair and drops onto the couch. His head falls back and just like that, he’s asleep, still holding the baby and the bottle.

Clarke shakes her head and takes the baby from him. He protests sleepily, but a half-hearted snap from him and he gives up the baby in favor of sleeping. Clarke burps the baby and rocks her back to sleep, and then she wakes up Bellamy. “Care to explain to me what the hell is going on in this apartment?”

Bellamy groans. “Look, Clarke, I appreciate the help, but I’m fine. She stays with my mom while I’m at work, and I know how to handle myself.”

Clarke snorts. “You can’t even _feed_ her properly.”

“That was one time,” he protests. “Usually I shake it up more than that.”

“And then let me guess, she gets the hiccups.”

“Don’t all babies?”

Clarke rolls her eyes and looks at the tiny girl sleeping in her arms. “I’m sorry you have to put up with him,” she tells the baby.

“Hey!”

“What’s her name?”

“The one on her birth certificate or the one I actually call her?”

Clarke arches an eyebrow.

“Her legal name is—“ he cringes “—Paisley Sky Blaze. I’m calling her Aurelia.” He yawns widely.

“Go to bed,” she tells him. “I’ll watch Aurelia for a few hours.”

“Clarke, you don't have to. She’s _my_ kid, and you’re—“

“Overqualified. My mom’s a pediatric surgeon. Don’t argue with me, Bellamy Blake. Get some sleep, and you can come get her from my place when it’s time for work.”

Bellamy stares at her and heaves himself off the couch. She starts toward the door, but he stops her with a hand on her arm and brushes a finger over Aurelia’s nose. “Thanks,” he says.

“Don’t thank _me_. I’m just making sure this poor, helpless infant gets taken care of _properly_.”

“Uh, her stuff’s in the office. Baby room. Nursery. Thing. Formula’s… yeah.”

“ _Go_.”


	5. Backtrack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy becomes a single parent.

Bellamy hears Amber slam the door behind her, and looks at the tiny bundle of blankets in his arms. He hadn’t even known she was pregnant, and then she shows up with this tiny, dark-haired, freckled creature and he doesn’t really know what she wants from him yet, but he is absolutely enraptured by this baby. “Hey,” he says. “Hi, kiddo.” He thinks he should use her name, except he is _not_ going to call her Paisley Sky Blaze, no matter what Amber says.

He shifts so that he can lay the baby in his lap and play with her little hands. He notices that she’s wearing a onesie with ARK MEDICAL stitched on it, and when he checks the blanket, it has the hospital’s name stitched onto it, too. His chest is tight as he unsnaps the bottom of her onesie, and he sighs with relief when her diaper is only a little messy. Amber _did_ have a diaper bag when she came in. Bellamy scoops the baby up and opens the diaper bag. Inside, the bag is empty, except for a birth certificate and a post-it note which has “ _Bye_ ” written in Amber’s chicken scratch.

He looks over the birth certificate. “Peysleigh Skyye Blaize Boorman” is listed as the baby’s given name, and Bellamy feels physically ill at the thought of his daughter ( _his daughter_ ) going through life with a name like _that_. For some reason (which is probably going to bite him in the ass later), Amber has actually listed Bellamy as the baby’s father. It also lists her birthday (four days ago) and her birth statistics (healthy).

Bellamy pulls the post-it off of the bottom of the certificate. What the hell did she mean by—

No.

He’s still in his work uniform, and he yanks his phone out of his pocket and searches for Amber’s number. He calls it, but all he gets is a nice, automated message telling him that the number’s been disconnected. The baby starts to cry, and Bellamy kisses her forehead. “Shh,” he tells her, rocking her gently. “Shh, it’s okay.”

He doesn’t know what to do, so he calls his mom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things: 1) Bellamy's ex-girlfriend is, like, the epitome of crazy. 2) Her namesake has no connection to this AU character. I just needed a name quick, fast, and in a hurry.


	6. Naptime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke might have forgotten to tell Raven about some things...

Raven comes over when she gets off work, not even bothering to knock. She throws the door open and shouts Clarke’s name. Clarke cringes— _please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up_ —and then Aurelia starts bawling. Clarke heaves a sigh, picks the baby up from the little nest Clarke made in the middle of her bed, and takes Aurelia with her.

“Thanks for nothing, Reyes,” she grumbles, trying to get Aurelia back to sleep. The baby stops crying, but now she’s awake again.

“Uh, Clarke?” Raven looks beyond confused. “When did you get a _baby_? I haven’t been gone that long, have I?”

“She’s not mine. She’s Bellamy’s.”

Raven just squints at Clarke. “Back the truck up. One, when did Bellamy get a baby? Two, why do you have Bellamy’s kid in your apartment?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “Bellamy works nights, and Miss Aurelia—“ Clarke runs a finger over Aurelia’s little button nose “—was keeping Daddy awake, wasn’t she? Yeah. Mm-hmm.”

“Clarke.”

“What? It was that or listen to her cry, and then I went over there and he tried to feed her cold formula. Cold!”

Raven arches an eyebrow. “So you kidnapped the neighbor kid?”

“No. I’m babysitting for the afternoon, just until Bellamy goes to work. He takes Aurelia to his mom’s.”

Raven stares dumbly at Clarke for a moment. “Okay,” she says, throwing up her hands. “I’m going to go… watch Netflix. Or something.”

Clarke picks up one of Aurelia’s hands and waves it at Raven. “Bye-bye, Raven.”

Raven rolls her eyes and walks out, but she shuts the door gently behind her instead of yanking it shut like she usually does.

“And now it’s sleepytime for _real_ , Miss Aurelia.” Clarke thinks about putting Aurelia back into her nest, but then she looks at that cute little face and those freckles and that heart-tugging sleepy little yawn, and (because, really, who is she kidding) settles on the couch for some snuggles.

 


	7. Adoration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy adores his daughter.

Aurelia’s polishing off another bottle of formula when Bellamy knocks on the door. Clarke throws the burp rag over her shoulder and pats Aurelia’s back gently. “Come in!”

Bellamy’s in his uniform, and he looks less exhausted than he had earlier. He looks weird with his hair slicked back like that, but Clarke thinks it’s adorable the way he lights up when he takes Aurelia and the burp rag from Clarke. “Did you miss me?” he coos. He kisses her soft, dark hair, and notices Clarke watching him. (She’s got a stupid grin on her face.) “What?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Nothing.” She hands Bellamy the diaper bag. “If you need anything, or if you need someone to watch her, you know where I live.”

“Thanks, but I really shouldn’t have imposed like that. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be. She’s an angel.”

“Yeah.” He smiles at the baby, and despite the fact that she has obviously turned his life upside-down and inside-out, Clarke can see that he is wrapped like a Band-Aid around her tiny finger. “Ready to go see your grandmother, Aurelia?” he asks on his way out the door.

Clarke waves, but Bellamy is too preoccupied with the baby to pay her any attention.

(She definitely doesn’t spend the rest of the evening thinking about the complete and utter adoration and devotion Bellamy has for his daughter—or how he looks with a diaper bag over one shoulder and a baby on the other.)


	8. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven starts a bet.

Raven pesters Clarke about getting Bellamy over to her apartment for a party for three weeks before he agrees. Bellamy’s not working nights any more, and when Clarke tries to convince him to give Aurelia to his mom for a few hours while he’s _not_ working, he practically has a heart attack then and there. Raven says he should just bring the baby; it’s a welcoming party, after all, and Aurelia lives here, too.

Bellamy stalls the party for another two weeks before Raven puts her foot down.

They invite pretty much the entire building, and pretty much the entire building crams into Clarke’s apartment, although Clarke leaves her door open so people can spread out onto the landing. Raven drags over all the chairs from her place, and all two of Bellamy’s chairs, too.

After the initial craziness of everyone showing up, Raven sits on the stairs with her drink and watches Clarke and Bellamy while she sits next to Wick.

He laughs when she wrinkles her nose and makes a noise of disgust. “What’s that for?”

She nods toward Bellamy and Clarke. Bellamy looks utterly lost (Maya has stolen the baby so she and Jasper can make goo-goo eyes at each other and pretend it’s just the baby), and Clarke is trying to distract him by grinning like a moron. “They’re so gross, and they don’t even know it.”

“You think _they’re_ gross?” Wick laughs. “Be glad you don’t live above _them_.” He jabs a finger toward Murphy, who’s glaring daggers at someone inside Clarke’s apartment—almost definitely Monroe.

Raven snorts. “I heard about that. Clarke says they’ve woken up the baby twice on her watch.” Maya hands the baby back to Clarke so she and Jasper can go make goo-goo eyes at each other _without_ any other excuse, and the ensuing argument between Bellamy and Clarke is absolutely revolting. Raven looks away. “Five bucks says it takes them six months to get in each other’s pants.”

Wick arches an eyebrow. “Six months?” He watches Bellamy and Clarke for another minute. “I say eight.”

“You’re on.”

(The whole building is in the pot by the end of the month.)


	9. Shouting Match

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe and Murphy are always shouting.

Normally, Clarke can time Aurelia’s sleep schedule so that she’s awake just before the near-daily fight starts on the floor above them. The building’s contractors apparently hadn’t believed in insulation or soundproofing, so when Murphy and Monroe come home—always at the same time—the entire building can hear them shouting at each other as they walk up the stairs, and when they get to the fifth floor, Clarke can hear them yelling some more.

Today, the fight didn’t come on schedule, so Clarke figures they’re not walking up the stairs at the same time, so they’re not going to have it out. Aurelia passes out pretty much on cue, and Clarke’s about to get settled in and do some serious work when the screaming starts right outside Clarke’s door. It moves upstairs quickly enough, but it’s already woken Aurelia, who’s now crying at having been so rudely woken from her beauty sleep. This isn’t the first time it’s happened like this. She waits, hoping the shouting match will stop, but it doesn’t, and Aurelia’s not going back to sleep. Clarke rests Aurelia on her shoulder, jouncing her a little, and goes up the stairs to give Murphy and Monroe what-for.

She stops when she rounds the corner of the stairwell, though. Monroe launches herself at Murphy, throwing him against the wall. Clarke is expecting her to beat the shit out of him or something, but then Monroe and Murphy are _kissing_ and _holy shit how did nobody see this coming_ and Clarke retreats slowly down the stairs. When Aurelia’s finally, actually napping, Clarke picks up her phone and calls Raven. 

“Yo.”

“What do you think about Murphy and Monroe?”

Raven snorts. “What, you mean the part where they’re constantly one shouting match away from tearing each other’s clothes off?”

Clarke hears a dull thud above her. “I think they finally had their one shouting match today,” she says. “Maybe now they’ll stop waking up Aurelia.”

Raven laughs. “No _shit_. Did they really?”

Clarke pulls the phone away from her ear and listens intently. “Yeah, I think so.”

It’s not their last shouting match. It isn’t even their last shouting match for a while; they’re at each other’s throats again the very next day.

(Roma moves out of Monroe’s apartment three weeks later, but Murphy and Monroe don’t have their last shouting match for a long, long time.)


	10. Girls, Plural

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy comes home from a long day at the museum to find Clarke and Aurelia napping in her apartment.

Bellamy’s gotten used to coming home from work on Thursdays to find Clarke’s apartment door open and Aurelia and Clarke in the living room. Today, though, he walks into Clarke’s living room, and they’re not there.

“Clarke?” he calls. He checks the kitchen, and the office, and then he finds them in Clarke’s bedroom. Clarke’s asleep on the bed, hair splayed across the pillows; Aurelia is sleeping next to her, tucked under Clarke’s arm. Bellamy toes his shoes off and lays down on the empty half of the bed. Clarke’s eyes snap open, and Bellamy’s little smile explodes into an ear-to-ear grin as he tries not to laugh. “Hey,” he whispers.

She pulls her arm back against her chest, relinquishing his daughter to him. “Long day at work?”

“Felt like it would never end.” Bellamy rests a hand on his daughter’s chest, feeling it rise and fall.

“What happened?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy hums, tired from a long night (Aurelia had trouble sleeping) and a longer day (some patrons had trouble keeping their hands off the exhibits). “Just—“ He yawns. “Just missed m’girls.” He nuzzles Aurelia’s hair and kisses her cheek, and then he’s out like a light.

( _Girls_ , Clarke thinks. _He said girls. Plural._ )


	11. Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy comes down with a really bad cold.

Clarke can hear Aurelia crying through the wall. She tries to block it out, but after three full minutes, it’s obvious that something isn’t right. Clarke glares at the glowing green numbers on her nightstand— _4:32_ —and drags herself out into the hallway. She pounds on Bellamy’s door, but he doesn’t answer, so she tries the knob. To her surprise, and good fortune, he’s forgotten to flip the deadbolt. She’ll have to rag on him for it later, of course, but for now—

Clarke stops short when she gets to Bellamy’s room. He’s tangled in the bedsheets, dead to the world (not _actually_ dead, thank goodness; she can hear his snores in between Aurelia’s cries). Clarke picks Aurelia up out of her crib and rocks her gently. “Shh… it’s okay, Ellie.” Clarke kisses the girl’s forehead. “Did you wear your daddy out, huh? Is that why he’s so sleepy?”

Aurelia’s cries become intermittent hiccups, and even those die off after a few minutes. “Go back to sleep, Ellie-girl.” Clarke rocks the baby for a few more minutes, until her breathing shifts into soft kitten-snores. She puts Aurelia back in the crib and goes to check on Bellamy. She pulls the covers away from him, and when she puts her hand on his neck to check his pulse, his skin is _hot_. Not just warm, but really, properly feverish. “Bellamy.” She shakes his shoulder gently.

He shivers and coughs, and after a bit more prodding, he wakes up enough to talk to her. “How the hell’d you get in?” he says hoarsely.

“You left the door unlocked. Might want to rethink that next time.”

He winces when he coughs again. “Yeah, sure, I’ll—I’ll do that.”

“You slept through Aurelia’s crying.”

Bellamy’s eyes widen, and he starts up. “What?”

Clarke shakes her head. “Don’t worry. She’s fine.” Clarke puts a hand on his forehead. “How do you feel?”

“It’s just a headache. Just… let me sleep.”

“Bellamy, listen to me. Aurelia’s barely six months old. If you have a fever like this, and _she_ gets whatever you’ve got, what do you think’s going to happen to her?” He doesn’t seem to put the pieces together, so Clarke does it for him. “She’s going to end up sick. _Really_ sick, not those little colds like kids always get.”

“We’re _fine_.” He rolls over and tries to bury his head in the pillow.

“Bellamy.” Clarke yanks on his shoulder, turning him back toward her. “I know you feel like shit, but you have to at least let me take Aurelia to my place for the rest of the night. We can figure out what to do with her tomorrow, but right now she _really_ shouldn’t be sleeping in the same room with you.”

Bellamy heaves a sigh. “Okay, princess. What about you? I coughed on you. You’re covered in germs now, right?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “It doesn’t work quite like that.”

He throws an arm over his face. “And what happens to me while you’re busy taking care of my kid in the middle of the night?”

“You sleep. I come back to check on you tomorrow morning when there’s, like, daylight outside.”

“Fine. But if Aurelia gets sick, it’s not my fault.”

Clarke snorts. “Don’t worry, Bellamy. She’s almost definitely going to get sick. I’m just trying to make sure she doesn’t need to visit my mom.” Clarke pulls the blankets back over Bellamy and lets him go back to sleep. She washes her hands in the kitchen sink—thoroughly—and grabs a glass of water to put on Bellamy’s nightstand. She takes Aurelia back to her apartment. Luckily, yesterday was Clarke’s day to hang out with the baby while Bellamy was at work, so the playpen is still in her office. She drags it into her bedroom, lays Aurelia in it (along with a couple of stuffed toys and Aurelia’s favorite blanket), and tumbles back into bed.

Bellamy sends Aurelia to his mom for the next few days while Clarke takes care of him. He insists that she doesn’t have to do all this—she really shouldn’t, actually, since she’s probably going to get sick—but she ignores all his protests, and tells him that she’s loading up on vitamin C, so the chances of her getting sick are really low.

(She _does_ get sick, two weeks later, and Bellamy spends both of his days off taking care of Clarke. His mom takes Aurelia again, but not without some very pointed eyebrow-raising.)


	12. Playtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke learns how Bellamy ended up with Aurelia.

Clarke rolls the acid-green ball toward Aurelia, who catches it and beats her hands on it. “Come on, now, roll it back.”

Bellamy plunks down on the couch, coffee in hand. It’s his day off, and they had plans to take Aurelia to the zoo, except now it’s pouring rain, so they’re stuck at home trying to keep Aurelia content and contained.

Aurelia beats her hands on the ball so hard it bounces up, hits her in the face, and rolls away into the kitchen. She topples backward, does a strange kind of rolling maneuver, and then crawls after the ball. She hasn’t figured out yet that crawling into the ball is only going to push it away, so she chases the ball around the kitchen for a good three minutes before she runs into the cabinet.

Clarke coaxes Aurelia back into the living room, and they resume their game of roll-the-ball. She’s been thinking about Aurelia’s birthday, even though it’s still months away, and she’s been thinking about Aurelia’s mother. She’s only seen the woman once, and she still doesn’t know what happened between her and Bellamy. It’s not her place to pry, of course, but Aurelia is really only half Bellamy’s, and Clarke hasn’t heard a single whisper about the other half since the day Aurelia came to the building.

“Can I ask you something?” she starts.

She fully expects Bellamy to make the smart remark that Raven always makes, but he just shrugs. “Sure.”

“Why don’t you ever talk about Aurelia’s mother?”

Bellamy sits up straighter, stiffer. “There’s not much to talk about,” he says, but his rigid tone tells Clarke he’s lying.

“I just—I saw her, the day you got Aurelia. But I haven’t heard anything about her since then.”

“Neither have I,” he says.

Clarke misses her roll, and Aurelia doesn’t hesitate to chase it down—and then she gets distracted by a small pile of toys under the window. “I thought—I mean, I assumed you kept some kind of contact with her. Doesn’t she want to see her kid?”

Bellamy gets up and goes into the nursery. Clarke hears him digging around, and when he comes back, he has a folder in his hand. “You want to know what happened?”

“If you want to tell me.”

Bellamy hands her the folder. Inside is a birth certificate for Peysleigh Skyye Blaize Boorman and a post-it note that says “Bye.” Bellamy nods to the folder. “That’s what was in the diaper bag when Amber came over with the baby. She made an excuse and left. I haven’t heard from her since.”

Clarke stares at the folder. “ _What_?”

Bellamy shrugs. “I don’t know what went on in her head. She was… unstable. Our relationship didn’t end well.”

Clarke closes the folder and hands it back. “Jesus, Bellamy.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah.” Aurelia crawls over and pulls herself up on Bellamy’s sweats, and when he picks her up, Clarke sees just how much this really affects him. He usually smiles and laughs when Aurelia grabs at his hair and his face, but now he just holds her like she’s the last thing in the world he wants to let go of, and when she wriggles her way back to the floor, he looks like someone’s slapped him.

Clarke moves to sit next to him, and she puts a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

Bellamy watches Aurelia gnaw on a wooden block, and his smile comes back. “I’m not.”


	13. Earplugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe and Murphy are having one of their very rare _actual_ fights.

Jackson hears Murphy and Monroe shouting from the second floor landing, and he lets out a sigh before jogging up the next two and a half flights of stairs. He peeks around the corner, and there they are, faces mere inches apart, yelling about—well, Jackson isn’t even sure any more.

He waits on the stairs, not wanting to walk through the middle of this, because if they get interrupted during a shouting match, then it’ll never end. It doesn’t take long, actually, before Murphy throws Monroe against the door and then they’re going at it like they always do, and it’s actually really clumsy and violent and angry and he doesn’t even want to know what they do after Monroe finally gets the door open and they stumble into her apartment. He’s glad they’re in Monroe’s apartment this time, though; it’s been Murphy’s apartment almost exclusively for the last week, and Jackson is seriously getting tired of not being able to sleep in his own bed after a long shift because they keep waking him up.

He flips the deadbolt on his door, and kicks his shoes off, and the thick rug in the entryway feels _so_ good on his feet. He’s been on shift for over twenty hours (it’s only supposed to be sixteen, maybe eighteen, but it’s always twenty or more because _welcome to working in a hospital_ ), and he’s dead tired. He finds some leftover egg rolls in the fridge that are still good, and he eats them cold because he’s too tired to wait for the microwave. His scrubs go unceremoniously into the hamper, and he stays up just long enough to half-heartedly brush his teeth before he crawls into bed.

He gets about an hour and a half of sleep before it starts.

It’s fairly quiet at first, because it’s in the hallway and the door is actually better insulation than the walls. He doesn’t really know what’s happening until Monroe starts shrieking at Murphy, and he can’t make out a lot of what she’s saying but he definitely hears “your fault” at least six times. He _really_ wants them to stop this insanity, because he knows this will go on for way too long and he’ll never get any sleep and he’s got to be on shift again in another ten hours. He gets up when Murphy starts shouting back, puts on sweats and a t-shirt, and yanks his door open.

Monroe’s face is red and splotchy and tear-streaked. Murphy is halfway across the landing, his arms crossed over his chest and his shoulders hunched, the way he is when he and Monroe have one of their very rare _actual_ fights.

“What the hell did you think was going to happen, Katie?”

Monroe wipes at her face and stares at her feet. “I don’t—“

They see Jackson then, both of them, and they look a little sheepish and apologetic and awkward. It’s pretty obvious that Roma’s gone—she’s been in the process of leaving for the last month or more—and despite Monroe’s many forays into Murphy’s apartment, she’s not taking it so well. She and Roma had been together quite a while, and had been friends for even longer. Jackson knows way too much about their relationship, too, but it’s Murphy and Monroe he’s concerned with right now, and he _knows_ they have something together, weird as it is.

“Okay. Normally, I don’t interfere in stuff like this, but did you ever try _not_ yelling?”

“What the hell business is it of yours?” Murphy asks.

Monroe snorts. “He lives on this floor, jackass.” She looks at Jackson. “Sorry. I didn’t know you were home.”

“You shouldn’t have to know when he’s home,” Murphy snaps. “It’s not like it’s the middle of the night.”

Monroe strides over and punches Murphy in the arm. “He’s a fucking _nurse_ , dipshit, which you would know if you actually tried to give a fuck about anyone else in this goddamn building.”

“So he’s a nurse. What the fuck do I care?”

“That’s the fucking _point_.” Monroe throws her hands up. “Jesus, Murphy! He’s a _nurse_ , which means he works like twenty fucking hours a _day_ and so when he’s home in the middle of the fucking day, he’s probably _sleeping_.” Her whole diatribe is delivered in an angry mutter, and Murphy just takes it easily, arms crossed.

“Right. My bad.” Murphy turns to Jackson. “Sorry, bro.”

Jackson rolls his eyes and goes back into his apartment. He finds some gauze in the first aid kit under the sink, stuffs it in his ears, and goes back to bed. He doesn’t hear them again; he’s not sure if it’s the gauze, or if they’re just not yelling.

(He finally remembers to buy earplugs, though, next time he’s at the store.)


	14. Octavia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy hasn't seen his sister in almost a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to update this more regularly, I swear. I just got a little caught up in... other fics.

Bellamy’s chasing Aurelia around the house when he hears a knock on the door. “Coming!” He scoops up Aurelia and blows a raspberry on her little belly. She giggles hysterically, and they’re both still laughing when he opens the door.

“O,” he says, still breathless from playing with his daughter. “Hi.”

He hasn’t seen his sister in almost a year. Last time he saw her, he was still coming back from his breakup with Amber, and she was on her way to some country in the southern hemisphere. They haven’t even talked, but she’s been off the grid for a lot of that time.

“Mom gave me directions. You babysitting?” she asks.

 _That’s about all Mom gave you_ , he thinks. He steps out of Octavia’s way. “Come in.”Aurelia grabs at Bellamy’s face, and he catches her little hands and kisses them. She looks a little miffed, and she starts to wiggle, heedless of the four-plus feet between her and the floor. “Okay, okay! Just stay in the living room, okay, little princess?”

Aurelia crawls off in a hurry to the toys in her toy bin under the window the moment he sets her down. Bellamy offers his sister a seat on the sofa and a drink.

“I’m fine. But thanks. How are you?” she asks.

“Busy. Good.” He gestures to Octavia. She’s tanned, and her hair is intricately braided. He can see the fading remains of semi-permanent tattoo patterns on her neck and arms. “How have you been?”

She shrugs. “Pretty good. You want to introduce me to this random child in your apartment?”

“Yeah. Uh. God.” He laughs nervously. “Aurelia. Aurelia, come here.”

Aurelia looks at him with her big brown eyes, chewing on the bill of a rubber duck. Bellamy sighs and picks her up, taking her back to the sofa with him. “O, this is Aurelia. Aurelia, this is your—your aunt Octavia.”

Octavia stares hard at her brother. “Jesus, Bell. What the hell’d you do?”

“You were right,” he confesses. “Amber was crazy.”

“No shit.”

“No, I mean—“ Bellamy kisses Aurelia’s hair. “She came here. I didn’t know what she wanted. I thought she just wanted me to know my kid existed or something, and then she just… vanished.”

Octavia closes her eyes, and Bellamy watches the shadows shift on her face as her jaw clenches. “You mean to tell me your psychotic ex-girlfriend dumped her lovechild on you, and you just _took it_?”

Bellamy frowns. He sets Aurelia on the floor and tosses the rubber duck away for Aurelia to chase. “What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, Bell. Call the fucking police?” Octavia’s about to start in on one of her rants when someone else knocks at the door. 

It’s Clarke, just home from volunteering at the hospital. Her hair is damp from her shower, but she still has paint on her neck and arms. Bellamy leans against the door frame. “Hey. Uh, now’s not—not a great time.”

Clarke frowns. “Bellamy?”

“My sister’s here.”

“You have a sister.”

“We don’t talk much any more. Look, can we—”

“Bellamy, who’s this?” Octavia looks royally pissed. Bellamy sighs and swings the door open.

“Octavia, this is my neighbor, Clarke. Clarke, this is my sister, Octavia.”

Clarke smiles. “Hi.”

Octavia says nothing, only looks Clarke up and down.

“I’m sorry, Clarke. I’ll text you?”

Clarke nods, keeping her cheerful face on, even though he knows she’s confused and probably a little annoyed. She waves to Octavia and goes back to her own apartment. When she’s gone, Octavia has found a new rant to go along with the one that got interrupted. Bellamy doesn’t really pay attention—he’s laying on the floor playing with Aurelia—and eventually, he just says her name, once. Quietly.

“Octavia.”

“What?” she snaps.

“Let it go.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, let it go. You’re a little late to be going on this diatribe.”

Octavia hums. She watches Bellamy and Aurelia for a while, and then she asks, “So what’s your deal with the neighbor?”

“Who, Clarke?”

Octavia nods.

“Nothing. She’s really good with Aurelia. And her mom’s a doctor.”

“Right.” Octavia gets up. “Well, I gotta go.”

“Oh. Sure. Uh, I’ll see you soon? I mean, feel free to drop by. Or call. I do work sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Octavia leaves, and Bellamy rolls over, pressing his face into the carpet, and groans.

 _She’s gone_ , he texts to Clarke.

(He’s still facedown in the carpet when Clarke shows up.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't expect Octavia & Bellamy's relationship to be like this, but I promise it's gonna get better.


	15. Hamster Wheel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy has trouble keeping Aurelia contained.

Clarke likes to pretend that her relationship with Bellamy isn’t _completely_ obvious. Raven’s favorite excuses are “I’m just being a good neighbor” and “Aurelia’s adorable.” It used to be funny, or cute, or whatever, but if Raven catches Clarke and Bellamy in the hallway making goo-goo eyes at each other _over the baby’s head_ , she is seriously going to lose her shit.

The baby isn’t really even a baby any more. Ellie (a nickname Bellamy hates on principle; everyone uses it when he’s not around anyway) is almost a toddler. Clarke is forever complaining about how Ellie somehow manages to go from a dead sleep on her blanket in the living room to crawling across the kitchen table in the time it takes Clarke to, like, turn around. And Raven has lost count of how many times they’ve lost the baby. It’s pretty much a daily occurrence now.

So it’s no surprise when Bellamy knocks on Raven’s door looking for Ellie.

“You should really invest in baby-proof doorknobs,” Raven says. “Did you try Clarke’s place?”

Bellamy looks sheepish. “I _really_ don’t want Clarke to know.”

“Don’t want me to know what?” Clarke asks from her doorway. “Where’s Aurelia?”

Before Bellamy can stammer a response, Wick walks down the stairs holding a giggly toddler. “I found this crawling up the stairs,” he says as Ellie lunges for her dad. Wick hands her over. “You might want to invest in some kind of containment system. Maybe a hamster wheel.” Wick gives Raven a wink when he passes her, and she just rolls her eyes. He’s such a _ham_ …

“She went up the _stairs_?” Clarke asks. “Bellamy, seriously, you have _got_ to keep a closer eye on her! What are you going to do when she starts _walking_?”

Ellie grabs Bellamy’s face and starts babbling excitedly. “Did you have an adventure?” he crows, like he’s actually having a conversation with her. “Oh, really? … Yeah?” He gets serious when she finally stops chattering, and puts a finger on her nose. “No more adventures by yourself, young lady.” Ellie doesn’t understand, or if she does, she doesn’t care, because she just giggles and throws her arms around Bellamy’s neck.

This is the part where Raven wants to gag, because when she looks at Clarke standing in the doorway of her own apartment, Clarke is wearing the most idiotic expression and even though she’s going to nag Bellamy the second he turns around, right now she looks so lovesick that Raven’s about to _be_ sick. Bellamy spins Aurelia around, and he catches Clarke’s eye and they share stupid smiles for a moment, and when that moment doesn’t immediately turn into Clarke nagging him, Raven makes loud retching noises.

“You two are, like, seriously grossing me out right now.”

Clarke looks way too innocent. “What?”

“Ugh.” Raven rolls her eyes. “It’s like you’re making out right in front of me, but with your _eyes_.”

Bellamy and Clarke both blush fiercely. Bellamy hides by blowing a raspberry on Aurelia’s stomach and making her giggle maniacally.

Raven throws up her hands and walks back into her apartment, calling over her shoulder, “I swear to God, you’re worse than Murphy and Monroe.”


	16. Sketchable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy brings Aurelia over early Saturday morning.

It’s one of those Saturdays when Bellamy’s working an extra shift, and so Clarke’s offered to watch Aurelia for the day. Clarke’s missed taking care of Aurelia ever since she started going to day care while Bellamy’s at work. So what if she’s so excited to have a girls’ day, just her and Aurelia, that she gets up extra early that morning?

Bellamy knocks on her door an hour earlier than they’d planned. He’s wearing nothing but his sweats, which sit distractingly low on his hips. Aurelia’s still in her pajamas, and she’s got her head resting on Bellamy’s shoulder, the fingers of one hand jammed into her mouth.

“Everything okay?” Clarke asks.

“Yeah, she just—she woke up before I could take a shower. Usually she’s fine just hanging out in her crib until I’m done, but today, we decided we wanted to be impossible, huh? Yeah.” He’s talking to Aurelia by the end of the sentence, tapping her little round nose with his finger.

Clarke smiles. “I’ll take her. Lucky for you, I shower at night.” She grins.

Bellamy pries his daughter off of him. “Come on, little princess. Daddy’s got to take a shower.”

Aurelia whines and wraps her arms around his neck.

“Aurelia Daphne,” Bellamy says firmly. “I have to go shower. Don’t you want to play with Clarke?”

Aurelia whines some more, so Clarke creeps up behind her with a silly grin on her face. Clarke wiggles her fingers in front of her face like some weird kind of tentacle, and then tickles Aurelia until she giggles and gives up her act. She reaches a saliva-sticky hand toward Clarke and lets Clarke pry her off of her dad.

“Thanks,” Bellamy says.

(If Clarke watches Bellamy walk back to his apartment, it’s only because she’s an _artist_ and he’s just so very _sketchable_.)

 


	17. Christmas Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This year's Ark Street Christmas party is on the third floor, and someone has gone overboard with the mistletoe.

It’s the third floor’s turn to hold the building’s Christmas party this year, which means it’s going to be _great_. Monty and Jasper always manage to supply enough Christmas booze for the whole street, the Sinclairs are powerhouses when it comes to snacks, and Lexa and Gustus have plenty of entertainment space.

Thirty minutes before the party, Aurelia decides she doesn’t want to go. Bellamy’s mother got Aurelia a dress with Christmas trees on it, and a pair of long red socks to go with it. Bellamy gets Aurelia dressed first, and by the time he’s gotten himself dressed, Aurelia has managed to pull off one sock and get herself tangled up trying to get the dress off. He pulls the dress back down, but Aurelia kicks wildly, screaming, when he tries to put the socks on her.

“Aurelia! Sockies for walkies,” he says, using the little rhyme Clarke made up. He’d been against using it at first, until it became abundantly clear that the rhyme actually worked.

Aurelia whines a bit more, to emphasize how much she doesn’t like the socks, but she stops kicking and lets Bellamy put the sock on. As soon as it’s on, though, she races off to the door and starts banging on it.

“I have to put my shoes on before we go, Aurelia. Do you want to wear your shoes?”

Usually, she’ll at least consider the shoes—the shiny silver ones are her favorite—but today she just keeps banging on the front door and reaching for the doorknob. Bellamy shakes his head, puts his shoes on, and opens the door for Aurelia. She toddles over to the stairs and wastes no time getting started climbing. _Up_ the stairs.

It’s another five minutes before Bellamy can convince her that they need to go _down_ the stairs, and even then Bellamy’s pretty sure she’s only turning around so she can follow Murphy. By the time they get to the party, most everyone’s there, including Clarke, who grins when she sees Aurelia’s Christmas-tree patterned backside sliding step by step down the stairs.

Clarke waits until Aurelia’s off the last step before she scoops her up. “Well, look what I found under the mistletoe!” she coos, and Bellamy notices then that there’s mistletoe in _every doorway_. The Sinclairs are standing at their own door, and Bellamy’s pretty sure he’s not imagining the smudge of lipstick on Mr. Sinclair’s face which exactly matches Mrs. Sinclair’s lips. Jasper’s standing in the doorway of his apartment, squarely under a sprig, talking to Maya. He makes a show of wiping his face when Monty and then Miller each plant a kiss on Jasper’s cheek on their way through the door.

Clarke is kissing Aurelia all over her little face, and Aurelia is giggling, suddenly in a perfectly good mood. “Kiss, kiss, kiss,” Clarke is saying between smooches, and that’s when Bellamy realizes that everyone on the third floor landing, except for Clarke, has turned their attentions to Bellamy still standing on the stairs.

Aurelia wriggles until Clarke sets her down, and then she’s off to find someone to play with, or beg a cracker from. Clarke watches Aurelia go, but she doesn’t move from under the mistletoe, just stands there and watches Aurelia run around the third floor landing.

Because it’s Christmas, and seeing his kid happy has put him in a good mood, and because she’s been a brat all day and run him into the ground, Bellamy sneaks up behind Clarke and murmurs into her ear, “Well, look what I found under the mistletoe.”

Clarke jumps, then turns and grins at him. “You got me.”

Bellamy has to lean down a little because Clarke is wearing flats, but he puts a slow, deliberate kiss square on her lips. She tastes a lot like toothpaste and a tiny bit like his kid, and he might as well cancel Christmas because nothing’s going to beat the electricity that runs through him, and then it’s over, and Clarke is throwing a grin at him over her shoulder as she goes to greet the people coming up the stairs.


	18. Mistletoe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This whole mistletoe thing is really getting out of hand.

Raven leans against the wall, trying to get away from the mistletoe that Jasper has hung pretty much everywhere. Kyle offers to get her a drink, and the cup he brings her has a triangle doodled on the side with some other shapes attached to it. “Is that supposed to be a Christmas tree?” she snorts.

Kyle just rolls his eyes. “So, how long d’you think Murphy and Monroe are going to last down here with all this mistletoe?”

“Longer than the Sinclairs, at this rate.” Raven jerks an elbow toward the door of the B apartment. She’s already seen the fat smudge of lipstick on Sinclair’s face, so she doesn’t bother actually looking that way.

Kyle squinches his face up. “I did _not_ need a mental image like that.”

Raven shrugs. Eventually the Sinclairs stop abusing the mistletoe, and Raven just watches, amused, at the havoc Jasper has brought on the building. Aurelia comes down the stairs, easing herself down one step at a time in her bright red socks and Christmas tree print dress, and Clarke meets the toddler under the mistletoe. When Aurelia scampers off, Bellamy sneaks up on Clarke. Their kiss, brief as it is, is so charged that Raven’s amazed they haven’t fucked even a little bit yet. 

And then the mistletoe encounters start getting more and more ridiculous. Jasper waits under the mistletoe for Maya to come up to him, but ends up getting accosted by both Monty _and_ Miller, who plant sloppy, noisy kisses on either side of Jasper’s face. Pretty much everyone contrives to find Aurelia under the mistletoe, and when Monroe’s busy cooing at the baby, Murphy pulls a Bellamy and sneaks up behind her, although Murphy tries to pretend he wasn’t trying to catch her under the mistletoe (who does he think he’s fooling, really?). Kyle goes in search of snacks and comes back with the giggling toddler he found in the Sinclairs’ doorway instead. Lincoln and Octavia dance around each other all night until the one time Bellamy’s not watching and _boy_ do they take that mistletoe seriously. Raven gets bored sitting in the same corner, so she goes to find her own snacks, and runs into Clarke, which isn’t all that bad. Jasper and Harper (so close, Jas), Lexa and Gustus (who make an absurd show of pretending they don’t want to kiss), the Sinclairs (again), Gustus and Lincoln (they kiss like the French, once on each cheek, and it’s so _gay_ that Raven actually laughs), and then Raven gets distracted while she’s standing in a doorway and it’s all over because Kyle appears, muttering in her ear in a way that makes her blood run cold and hot all at once.

The kiss he gives her might as well be brother to sister, which is disappointing because she thought he’d be a little more into it. And then, of course, he gives her a wink and strides away.

When the party finally dies down, Raven’s had it up to _here_ with this mistletoe shit. She’s on her way up the stairs when she hears Kyle’s heavy footfalls come up behind her. “Hey, were you going to tell me you were leaving?” he asks.

“I guess I didn’t need to,” she answers.

“Raven!”

She spins to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. “What?” she snaps.

He takes a step forward; she takes a step back. “Raven, come on. You’ve been in a crappy mood since I kissed you under the mistletoe.”

Raven snorts, but he’s still walking forward and she’s still shuffling backward and then her apartment door stops her and Kyle’s standing toe-to-toe with her.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Make me.”

He puts one hand over her face, and she shakes her head and bats at his arm, but by the time his hand leaves her face, he’s tacked a sprig of mistletoe over her door.

“Seriously?”

He grins, and this time when he kisses her it’s not even in the same _universe_ as platonic. She wrenches on the doorknob and almost falls backward into her apartment, but he catches her and kicks the door shut behind them.

(It’s going to be a _very_ merry Christmas.)


	19. Afterparty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke takes Aurelia upstairs, and Bellamy finishes what he started.

Aurelia’s fallen asleep on Lexa’s couch by the time the partygoers start to call it quits. Bellamy’s sitting at the counter nearby, talking to his sister, and Clarke doesn’t even interrupt them, just murmurs to Bellamy that she’s going to put Aurelia to bed. He doesn’t even protest any more, just nods his thanks and tells her he’ll be up soon.

Clarke scoops up the sleepy toddler and walks out onto the landing. Her mom is talking to Marcus, and Clarke doesn’t really want to interrupt, but she’s got to say goodnight to her mother before she takes Aurelia upstairs.

Marcus gives Aurelia a warm smile. “Looks like someone partied hard,” he remarks.

“I’m gonna put her to bed,” Clarke says. “I just wanted to say goodnight.”

Her mom actually smiles then, and Clarke’s pretty sure she’s been helping herself to Jasper’s party contributions, because Abby hasn’t smiled hardly at all since her husband died. “Goodnight, honey.”

Clarke carries Aurelia up to Bellamy’s apartment and lays her in her crib. She should really get Aurelia out of the dress, but Clarke’s afraid she’ll wake the poor girl up, so she just drapes a blanket over her and tucks her favorite teddy bear in next to her.

When Clarke goes out to the living room, Bellamy’s just walking in the door. “She still out?”

Clarke nods. “Like a light in a thunderstorm.”

He kicks off his shoes and sits next to her on the couch. “I could have put her to bed, you know.”

“I wanted to let you talk to your sister. Why didn’t you tell me about her?”

Bellamy sighs. “It’s a long story,” he says.

Because it’s Christmas, and because she’s tired, and because she’s still thinking about that kiss under the mistletoe, Clarke doesn’t push. She curls up into Bellamy’s side, and he drapes an arm around her. They sit that way for a few minutes before Bellamy lets out a yawn. “Guess that’s my cue to go home,” Clarke says, rising. Bellamy tugs on her waist, pulling her back down onto the couch. 

He kisses her, and it’s the kiss he didn’t want the others to see, the one he didn’t give her under the mistletoe. His body twists toward her, and his lips are gentle but assertive. He’s got one hand on her waist and the other in her hair and she mirrors him, but her back is screaming so she shifts until she’s straddling him on his sofa. He opens his mouth a little, and she takes his bottom lip in her teeth, and then they’re all hands and tongues and teeth and _hunger_ , until Bellamy breaks away from her and dips his head to rest on her shoulder. His hands skate up and down her back, and she slouches into him. “Too bad there’s no mistletoe,” he says, and she can feel his smile against her collarbone.

“Might have to fix that,” she answers, and then it’s her turn to yawn. “Okay, _that’s_ my cue to go home.” She gives Bellamy another kiss, short and sweet like they’re so used to now, picks up her shoes, and goes back to her own apartment.


	20. Under the Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke spends Christmas morning with her favorite neighbors.

Clarke comes over at seven-thirty the next morning, still in her PJs. Aurelia tries to escape out the door when Bellamy opens it, but Clarke catches her and envelops her in a hug. She carries the girl inside and sets her down in the living room. The tiny Christmas tree on Bellamy’s kitchen table is drowning in presents, and there’s still a half-eaten cookie on the little plate Aurelia and Bellamy left out for Santa.

Bellamy’s hand is warm on the small of her back when he gives her that sultry smile of his and asks her if she wants a cup of coffee (like she’s going to say no to _coffee_ ). When Clarke’s curled up on one end of the couch with her coffee and Aurelia is trying to eat a bow she got off of one of the presents, Bellamy decides it’s time to get Christmas morning started.

Almost all the presents are for Aurelia, stuffed toys and plastic toys and board books and a set of wooden alphabet blocks. She takes particular interest in one of the boxes Clarke had wrapped a big teddy bear in, until she accidentally flips it over on top of herself and can’t see. She flails a bit, and then starts to cry when she feels a little too lost. “Well, there’s Aurelia!” Bellamy says when he lifts the box.

There are presents for Clarke and Bellamy, from each other: a mug that says “#1 Dad”, because somehow Bellamy _still_ doesn’t have one of those; and a finger-painted t-shirt for Clarke, along with a small photobook of Aurelia having her first adventure into finger paint. Clarke flips through the photobook, laughing at Aurelia’s expressions (the finger paint, while completely non-toxic and kid-safe, apparently didn’t taste as good as she expected; otherwise, she looked happy as a clam).

She stacks blocks with Aurelia for a while, until Aurelia starts handing her every bit of shiny paper and all the bows she can find. A few of them still have adhesive on them, so when Bellamy goes to refill his coffee, Clarke sticks a couple of them to Aurelia’s shirt. Aurelia tries to do the same, but doesn’t quite understand the concept of adhesive, so Clarke helps her out.

“Hey, Bellamy, I got you a Christmas present!” she calls, carrying the giggly, bow-clad toddler into the kitchen. Bellamy gives her a stupid grin when he sees them, both wearing gift bows.

“Merry Christmas to me!” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and snapping a picture before Clarke can protest. Aurelia lunges for Bellamy, who drops his phone back in his pocket and takes his daughter with one arm, all without spilling his coffee. He leans down and drops a kiss on Clarke’s lips. “A _very_ merry Christmas.”


	21. Amber Alert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone unexpected pays Bellamy a visit just before Aurelia's first birthday.

Bellamy is asleep on the couch, Aurelia napping on his chest, when someone knocks loudly on the door… and keeps knocking. Bellamy shifts out from under Aurelia, which is only a feat because he’s half-asleep himself; this building and its residents turned Aurelia into a heavy sleeper a long time ago.

It’s Amber.

“Uh… hi?” he says, but he shifts a little more of himself behind the door.

“Hi. I was in town and I thought I’d stop by. I’d hoped you hadn’t moved yet. How’s Peysleigh?” Amber cranes her neck, trying to see around Bellamy.

It takes Bellamy a moment to remember that’s what Amber had first named the baby.

“She’s napping. I just got her to sleep,” he lies.

“I’m her mother,” Amber argues.

Bellamy slides his foot a few inches behind the door. “She’s _sleeping_ , Amber.”

“So wake her up.”

“No.”

Amber glares at him, and then crosses her arms. “Fine. I’ll come back later. She can’t sleep forever.”

When Amber leaves, Bellamy texts Clarke with shaking hands. He knows she’s home, but he doesn’t want to leave his apartment—not even to knock on Clarke’s door. He opens the door when she knocks, and she gives him a funny look when he flips the deadbolt and hugs her, burying his face in her shoulder. He’s shaking all over now, not just his hands.

“Bellamy, what’s going on? Is Aurelia okay?”

“She’s fine,” he mumbles into her hair. “Clarke, I can’t—I thought it was okay, and it’s not.”

“What’s not okay?”

Bellamy steps away from her and shakes his head. “Amber.”

“Aurelia’s mother?”

Bellamy goes into the living room. Aurelia’s still asleep on the couch, her dark curls plastered to one side of her face. Bellamy scoops her up and takes her back into his bedroom; his bed is one of the only places Aurelia won’t climb on or off of by herself. After he’s settled her blankie over her, Bellamy drops onto the couch. He feels like he’s going to puke, or go into shock. Maybe both. “She was here,” he says. “She wanted to see Aurelia. I stalled her, but she’ll come back. I don’t know what to do.”

Clarke kneels on the floor in front of him. “Bellamy. Listen to me. She gave up her rights to Aurelia when she left her here. If you don’t want her to see Aurelia, then she won’t see Aurelia.”

“You don’t know her, Clarke.” Bellamy glances at the door, shaking his head. He should have listened to Octavia, should have let Amber go, but—

“Bellamy, listen to me.” Clarke puts her hands on his knees. “ _No one_ is going to let her do _anything_. Do you hear me?”

Bellamy nods. In almost a year, he’s never seen Clarke like this, so fierce, so determined; he believes her. He puts his hands on top of hers. “Okay,” he says hoarsely.

“Good.” She gets up, and plants a kiss on his forehead. “Go snuggle your daughter, Bellamy.”

He stops her before she can leave, a hand on her forearm. “Thank you.”

She just flashes him a smile and strides out of his apartment.


	22. Defender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's got this one handled.

Clarke shuts the door to Bellamy’s apartment firmly behind her, and then leans up against the wall and breathes. In almost a year, she’s never seen Bellamy this shaken up, not even when Aurelia managed to hide on the third floor for two whole hours. Seeing the effect that woman has on Bellamy, the way she’s manipulated him into that kind of reaction, is beyond infuriating.

Clarke shoves off the wall, marches down to the first floor, and bangs on the building manager’s door.

“Oh. Clarke.” He looks surprised to see her; most people just call him when there’s a problem. “Can I help you?”

“We have a security issue.”

Marcus blinks. “We do? Since when?”

“Since this afternoon.”

“I don’t understand.”

Clarke nods to the front door, which has a keypad and an electronic lock that comes on at night. “I need you to keep the lock on around the clock until further notice.”

Marcus frowns. “What’s going on?”

“Aurelia’s—“ Clarke tries not to choke on the next word “—mother came to my floor today. I think she wanted to take Aurelia.” The lie—a minor exaggeration, really—makes Clarke’s stomach do somersaults; even though she wouldn’t put it past a woman like that, attempted kidnapping is a serious accusation. “Please, Marcus. Just until we figure out what else to do?”

Marcus sighs. “Okay. But I’ll need to post a notice about why I’m leaving the lock on during the day.”

Clarke smiles. “Thank you.” The lock is a weak solution, temporary and incomplete, but it’s far from the only thing Clarke’s got planned.

The lock will only protect Aurelia as long as Aurelia stays in the building, and as long as nobody lets Amber in—which includes inadvertently giving her the key code. Keeping Aurelia in the building isn’t so hard, and Clarke’s pretty sure she can get the rest of the building to practice good security habits. Unfortunately, the lock only protects Aurelia. Bellamy still has to go to work and buy groceries and live his life.

Clarke heads back upstairs to her apartment and sends a notice via email to everyone in the apartment, then goes to Bellamy’s apartment. He’s locked the door, so when Clarke knocks, she says, “Bellamy? It’s Clarke.”

He opens the door and lets her in, locking the door behind her.

“I asked Marcus to keep the front door locked until we figure something out, and I emailed the rest of the building and told them—“

Someone knocks loudly at the door. 

“Clarke, I know you’re in there,” Raven calls.

Clarke flips the deadbolt and pulls the door open. “Calm down. Aurelia’s still sleeping.”

Raven snorts. “If that kid can sleep through Monroe and Murphy, a knock on the door isn’t going to wake her up.” She pulls a chair in from the kitchen and sits across from the sofa. “So, what’s this about a security issue?”

Clarke glances to Bellamy, who still looks jittery and nervous. “Amber,” she says, pulling Bellamy with her to sit on the couch.

Raven’s face squinches in disgust. “She came _here_? What the hell did she want?”

“She said she wanted to see the baby,” Bellamy says.

Raven laughs,trying to ease the tension that’s plain in Bellamy’s posture and in the lines of his face. “That is the  _biggest_ crock of shit I’ve ever heard. ”

Aurelia cries from Bellamy’s room, and Bellamy gets up to get her.

Raven gives Clarke a wide-eyed look. “Clarke, are you sure everything’s okay?”

Clarke nods. “For now.”

“Okay, well, if you need anything else, let me know.” Raven gets to her feet and shoves the chair back into the kitchen as Bellamy walks out with his wild, bedheaded toddler. “Bye-bye!” Raven waves to Aurelia.

Aurelia waves a lazy hand in Raven’s direction. When Raven’s gone, Clarke locks the deadbolt again. “You okay?” she asks Bellamy.

He kisses Aurelia’s hair as she wriggles in his grasp, and then he lets her onto the floor. He gives Clarke a weak smile. “Yeah.”


	23. History

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whether he wants it or not, Bellamy is involved with Clarke, and it terrifies him.

He is not okay. He is very, very far from okay. The truth is, he doesn’t know exactly why Amber’s sudden appearance terrifies him so much. Rationally, he knows she gave up any power she might have had the day she abandoned her newborn child, but that doesn’t stop him from worrying. If she does anything— _starts_ anything—it will disrupt the life he’s worked so hard to make without her, for himself and for Aurelia.

He had loved Amber once. He knew she was troubled, knew she had issues—but who didn’t? He had just graduated high school, and his mother had stopped trying to control or discipline Octavia, who was still in middle school. He had located his father the year before only to discover that the man had just died of a prescription overdose. His friends all went off to college, but Bellamy felt responsible for his sister, for keeping her out of too much trouble, so he stayed and got a job as a night guard at the museum and took care of Octavia and, to a lesser extent, his mother.

His relationship with Amber was chaotic, but for whatever reason he let himself get sucked into her vortex, her tornado. The early years were good, and he had thought he might have a future with her. He had made the mistake of getting an apartment with her, and she manipulated him in more ways than he cared to remember. He couldn’t afford to move until their lease came up for renewal, and the last three months of their time together were like being stuck on the rollercoaster from hell.

Octavia had told him not to move in with Amber, had told him over and over that she was no good, but Bellamy hadn’t seen it himself until long after it was too late. His refusal to listen to his sister gave her all the reason she needed to stop listening to him.

By the time he moved to Ark Street, his life had become a shambles. He still had his job, because whatever else happened he could walk around a museum after hours, but everything else had crashed and burned around him. He and Amber had fought every minute of the last months before the end of the lease, and then she had dropped out of his life the moment he moved. He had spent over two months looking for an apartment he could afford in a place that had some kind of actual security, living in his old bedroom at his mother’s house in the meanwhile and listening to her endless tirades about how he let his baby sister run off to South America all by herself.

Aurelia’s arrival had been the end of any residual feeling he might have had for Amber. He devoted himself to caring for Aurelia, caring _about_ Aurelia. She was his little princess, his little ray of sunshine after the hellstorm of his broken relationship. His life quickly became hers, his entire existence wrapped around her tiny finger. He was not okay when she came into his life, and even though Amber had clearly meant her to be a burden and a reminder, Aurelia helped him heal and forget.

It was because of Aurelia that he let himself become friends with the woman next door, the one who adored his daughter and had a smile like the sun and wasn’t afraid to tell him when he was wrong. It was also because of Aurelia that he kept himself from exploring any other relationship with Clarke. He was hesitant to involve himself with anyone the way he had involved himself with Amber. He could survive being utterly destroyed, but he would do everything in his power to keep Aurelia safe from the kind of destruction he had suffered at the hands of her mother.

But as he stacks blocks with Aurelia, Clarke busies herself in the kitchen making a snack for Aurelia and tea for herself and Bellamy. She flashes him a smile when she catches him staring at her, and he can’t help but mirror her smile a little as he looks away. When he sees that she’s cut all of Aurelia’s grapes neatly in half, he knows that whether he wants it or not, he’s involved with Clarke.

He remembers the fierce fire behind her eyes when he told her about Amber, and he knows that he trusts her in a way he never trusted Amber. He loved Amber, but he trusts Clarke. He trusts her, and Aurelia loves her, and Bellamy is _terrified_. He knows Clarke won’t let Amber disrupt his and Aurelia’s life, but he can’t be sure she won’t disrupt it herself, so he does his best to walk the line between trusting Clarke and finding somewhere else to start over before Aurelia gets too big.

(Later, he will think about the first few years at Ark Street and he will realize that Clarke is erasing and redrawing that line over and over like successive drafts of a portrait.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any of y'all who have been following this story, you've probably noticed I'm trying to post a chapter a day. I might have to post less often come the 16th, because there are some fic weeks and also I'm out of town for a bit.  
> But! I will totally keep posting on this story. I'm thinking about aiming for 100 chapters because, like, 100. Such a nice number.


	24. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has a plan to keep her people safe.

When Aurelia goes stir-crazy, it’s Clarke and Raven who take her out to the park. Next to Clarke, Aurelia looks distinctly like someone else’s child; next to Raven, she looks passably similar. Bellamy’s at work, and Clarke gave him the whole game plan. Well, most of the game plan.

Okay, so she told him the part of the game plan that involves taking Aurelia to the park and getting her some much-needed playtime with other kids. She _didn’t_ tell him the part of the plan she’s hashed out with Raven, the part that involves Amber.

Maya and Harper have a picnic blanket laid out in a nice patch of sun—the weather is impossibly nice for late January—and Monty and Miller and Jasper are kicking a soccer ball around. Raven lets Aurelia ride on her shoulders until they get to the playground, and then Aurelia’s climbing down from Raven’s shoulders in a desperate flight to the playground. Clarke looks around, and sees Amber walking on the trail at the edge of the park, where young moms in track suits jog with their strollers. She watches to make sure Amber doesn’t try anything, while Raven plays with Aurelia.

When it’s time to go, Clarke bundles Aurelia into the car while Raven starts the engine. Clarke sees Amber walk by, and when the woman is in earshot, Clarke calls to Raven, “Hey, have you seen Peysleigh’s binky?”

She can _feel_ Amber’s glare on her neck, but before she can make a move, Clarke hops in the car. Amber’s stalking toward them as Raven backs the car away from her. When they’re well down the street, Clarke fist-bumps Raven.

“Did you see her _face_?”

Clarke nods. “That’s exactly what I want.”

“Remind me again why you and Bellamy aren’t banging like a screen door in a hurricane?”

“Raven!”

“What? Don’t tell me you don’t think about it.”

Clarke’s face heats, and she folds her arms across her chest. “He’s got a kid. Plus his ex-girlfriend is a crazy bitch who either thinks I stole his kid or I babysit his kid.”

“Both of which are true.”

Clarke punches Raven in the shoulder. “Shut up. I don’t _steal_ her. I _borrow_ her. Trust me, sometimes I’m glad to give her back.” Clarke looks back at Aurelia, whose eyelids are drooping as she sucks on her pacifier. “Damn. She’s gonna be asleep when we get back.”

“It’ll be fine, Clarke. We’ll be inside and up the stairs before Amber even pulls up.”

“Well, I don’t want to make you carry her all the way up the stairs. She’s a lot heavier when she’s asleep.”

“She can’t be that much heavier than groceries,” Raven says. She pulls expertly into her parking space. Clarke turns around and gets Aurelia unbuckled while Raven walks around the car. Aurelia’s not quite asleep yet, and she makes little whining noises and lunges for Clarke when Raven tries to take her out of her seat.

Clarke gives Aurelia a smile and a tap on the nose. “It’s okay, princess. You and Raven go upstairs and I’ll see you there, okay?”

Aurelia still doesn’t look happy, but Clarke shoos Raven away anyway. Aurelia’s full-on sobbing by the time Raven gets in the building; Clarke’s going to have to make it up to her later (and to Aurelia, too).

“Where the fuck is she?” snaps a loud voice behind Clarke. Amber’s stomping toward Clarke in full rage. “Where the _fuck_ is my baby?”

“Do I know you?” Clarke asks. She steps in front of the building’s door, right where the security camera will have a really excellent view of Amber’s face.

“You’ve got my daughter, you _bitch_. I want to see her!”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

Amber growls. “Bullshit. I fucking heard you call her Peysleigh. That’s _my_ daughter’s name.”

Clarke shrugs. “You must have misheard. Nobody in our building goes by that name.”

Amber lunges at Clarke’s throat, hands crooked into vicious claws, screaming curses. Clarke pretends to put up a fight for a bit, and then in one swift move pins Amber to the wall, twisting her forearm behind her back. Amber struggles, and Clarke tightens her grip, wrenching Amber’s arm a little further the wrong way.

“This is your only warning,” Clarke growls in Amber’s ear. “If you fuck with Bellamy, I will end you.”

“Aw,” Amber says, face pressed to the wall. “Got a little crush?”

Clarke yanks Amber back by the hair and shoves her toward the street.

“This isn’t over!” Amber screeches.

“Bye!” Clarke calls, and then she punches in the key code without looking and slips into the building.


	25. Indra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amber camps out in front of the building.

Indra doesn’t really like Clarke, or Bellamy, but she understands Clarke’s reasoning when Clarke explains that Amber abandoned a perfectly healthy (and cute) baby in their building, and that’s an atrocious thing for anyone to do.

Indra has heard that Amber tried to get in the building a couple of times before, and she heard the girls next door talking about how the crazy woman even tried ambushing Bellamy when he went down to the store. It happens to her eventually, coming home from work and finding a strange woman loitering outside the building.

When Indra starts toward the door, the woman follows her. Indra goes as far as punching in the key code before she rounds on the woman behind her. “Amber Boorman,” she sneers.

“Oh, so you _do_ live here. Listen, my ex won’t let me in, and I want to see my daughter.”

“You’re not welcome here.”

Amber huffs. “He _has_ to let me see her. She’s my _daughter_.”

Indra takes a step toward Amber. “Get out of here, witch.”

Amber crosses her arms over her chest. “He can’t keep her holed up in that building forever.”

“And you can’t stand out here forever,” Indra says. “Especially not with a restraining order.”

That’s when Amber hits the roof. Indra lets the woman rant at her for half a minute or so, and then she goes into the building, shutting the door before Amber can get her hands on it.

(Indra is a little dismayed that Amber didn’t try to grab the door; she would have had no qualms about yanking the door shut anyway.)


	26. Groceries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is doing the best he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all get TWO chapters today, because the Indra chapter was so short. Happy Ides of March! (I don't actually celebrate the Ides in any way but it's just an excuse.)

In true Amber style, she assails Bellamy when he’s got his arms full of groceries. “Where is she?”

“Amber,” he stammers, fumbling for the keypad.

“You left her with that blonde bitch, didn’t you?” she snaps.

“What do you want?”

“I _want_ to see my _child_.”

Bellamy sighs. “She’s doing well,” he tells her. “Healthy. She likes the stairs.”

“I want to see her,” Amber repeats.

“No, you don’t. You made that very clear last year.”

Amber crosses her arms over her chest. “I was in a bad place, Bellamy. I needed you, and you came through.”

He knows what this is. He has heard it before. _I was in a bad place. I’m sorry. Forgive me. Let me in._ Once, it might have meant she actually was sorry, but he has heard that line too many times to believe it. “We’re not doing this again,” he says, blocking her view of the keypad with his body. “Excuse me.”

He gets inside the doorway, kicking it shut in her face, and goes upstairs to put the groceries away. After all the food is stashed in its proper place and the bags are all folded back up, he goes over to Clarke’s apartment. He tries not to give it away, but Clarke knows him too well.

“What happened?” she asks.

Aurelia wraps her arms around his leg. He picks her up, kissing her nose. Aurelia tries to give him a kiss, but she hasn’t quite got the hang of it yet, so it’s more like bonking her face into his cheek with her mouth open. He laughs. “You’re gettin’ there, little princess.” She drapes herself on his shoulder, and he asks Clarke, “How’d her nap go?”

“Short. You wanna tell me what happened downstairs, or am I gonna have to go down there myself?”

“Clarke…”

“I’m serious, Bellamy! You can’t keep letting her do this.”

“I am doing the best I can. You don’t know her.”

“I know she’s been harassing everyone in the building for the last three days. I know she left a helpless infant _in your arms_ and then dropped off the face of the earth. I know she’s unstable, and she’s manipulative, and she will do _anything_ she can to hurt you.”

“What do you want me to do, Clarke? She’s Aurelia’s _mother_.”

“I don’t _want_ you to do anything. You _need_ to look out for Aurelia, not Amber.”

Bellamy clenches his jaw. “I don’t need you telling me what’s best for _my_ kid.” He walks out of her apartment and back to his own. He sets Aurelia down in the living room and starts pulling out dinner food. He ignores the door when Clarke pounds on it, even though Aurelia looks at him hopefully when she hears Clarke’s voice.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s Clarke, of course.

_when you’re done being a pigheaded ass, let me know_

He stares at the message so long the pasta water overboils. He wants to be angry that she doesn’t even pretend to be apologetic, but he can’t. He puts Aurelia in her high chair and feeds her applesauce while he cooks the pasta and heats some spaghetti sauce. He gives her some pasta when it’s cooled, and, against his better judgement, he puts a little bit of sauce on it.

Aurelia takes a giddy pleasure in making a mess of her pasta, and by the time she’s done, she’s in dire need of a bath, so he draws one up, strips her down, and washes the spaghetti sauce off her face and hands. She gives him a rubber duck, and the duck turns out to really love Aurelia, kissing her all over with its bright green beak and making her giggle. He plays with her for a while, and then washes the spaghetti sauce out of her hair. He bundles her up in her little hooded towel and calls her a burrito and pretends to eat her up.

He gets her into pajamas and puts her in her crib and reads to her like he does every night. By the time he’s done, she’s out cold, and after he cleans up the kitchen, he thinks about going to bed early, except that his mind has had enough time to get some thinking done without him, and he stares at himself in the mirror while he brushes his teeth and thinks in circles about Clarke and Amber and the sudden mess that he’s in again.

By the time he finally _does_ go to sleep, he’s decided he needs to do something and has no idea what that something is.


	27. Unapology

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy makes pancakes.

Clarke wakes up late the next morning to a little wriggling body next to hers. Aurelia’s patting her face, and Clarke smells pancakes coming from her kitchen. She wrestles with Aurelia, tickling her and kissing her little cheeks. “Did you and Daddy sneak into my apartment again?” she asks.

Aurelia climbs on Clarke and lays on her chest like a little starfish. She only stays for a few seconds, and then she’s off again, climbing off Clarke’s bed and toddling away. Clarke yawns and follows her out, and Bellamy’s in her kitchen, making breakfast. He pours Clarke a cup of coffee, sliding the sugar jar and a spoon across the island counter, puts Aurelia in the little booster seat at the table, and sets all the breakfast fixings out: pancakes, syrup, fresh fruit.

“What’s your angle?” Clarke asks.

Bellamy gets the margarine from the fridge. “I don’t know what to do, and at some point I’m going to ask for your help, but I thought I’d butter you up first.” He wiggles his eyebrows and hands her the margarine.

She snorts and gives Aurelia a few slices of banana. “Well, I’ll help you out right now and tell you that you shouldn’t have made breakfast after an argument.” She gestures at him with a butter knife. “Breakfast is hard to top. Especially pancakes and coffee.”

He shrugs. “I make a mean omelette,” he says. “Anyway, I know you have some kind of devious plan in your head, so let’s hear it.”

“It’s not a plan,” she tells him.”It’s pretty simple, actually.”

“What is?”

“Getting a restraining order.”

“Clarke…”

“Don’t. I know that tone. I talked to Mrs. Sinclair; she says you’ve got a pretty decent basis for a restraining order, and you won’t have to worry about Amber hanging around the building.”

“I don’t know,” he says, and he looks uncomfortable.

Clarke sighs. “I don’t know what she said to you, but I will tell you right now that she’s only thinking about herself. She will only _ever_ think about herself, never about Aurelia.” Bellamy still looks uneasy, so Clarke adds, “Amber doesn’t want Aurelia. She wants _you_. Aurelia’s just a tool.”

That gets a response from Bellamy, albeit a restrained one. His body tenses, and his gaze threatens to burn a hole in her table. Clarke puts a hand over his, and he relaxes a bit.

“She’s just one person, Bellamy. You’ve got a whole _building_.”

He nods. “Yeah.”

Aurelia decides that’s enough of them not paying attention to her, so she smacks her banana-covered hands on the table and squeals excitedly. Clarke gets her a couple more banana slices and cuts up half a pancake into little pieces.

(Thanks to the building’s security camera and statements from the neighbors, Bellamy gets that restraining order; the day after Amber gets it, she disappears again. Clarke hopes she stays away.)


	28. Thunderstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A thunderstorm knocks out power in the building, and Clarke tries her hand at putting Aurelia to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not technically late until tomorrow, right?

Clarke’s putting a few little touches on the final draft of a work project when the power goes out, plunging her apartment into darkness. She doesn’t lose much, because she saves obsessively, but now she’s going to be seriously behind. She fumbles at her desk for her phone and uses it to light her way through her apartment.

She’s digging through her closet for a flashlight when she hears the wailing on the other side of the wall. She shoots Bellamy a questioning text message, and he tells her that the storm’s just really loud. Clarke finds the flashlight (finally) and puts on some pajamas before she goes over to Bellamy’s.

Bellamy answers the door with a pouty toddler in his arms and a camping lantern hanging from his fingers. She’s calmed down, but she’s still hiccuping pretty hard. Clarke rubs the poor girl’s back. “Hey, Aurelia,” she croons. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s just some rain.”

Aurelia just stares at Clarke, sucking on her pacifier.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bellamy says. “I’m just going to try to put her back to B-E-D. We’re okay over here.”

Clarke takes the lantern from him. “You think I want to be in my apartment all alone? Fat chance.”

Bellamy smiles. “Whatever you say, princess.”

They sit in the living room for a while, Bellamy trying to soothe Aurelia back to sleep amid the thunder and lightning. He tries to put her back to bed, but she just starts wailing the second he walks away. Clarke grabs a blanket off the couch on her way into Aurelia’s room and nudges Bellamy out of the way.

“I brought a special blanket,” Clarke says. “It’s monster-proof, and rain-proof, and storm-proof. Do you want it?”

Aurelia just keeps wailing. Clarke wraps her in the blanket and picks her up. “This blanket will keep you safe from everything,” she says. “Well, everything except kisses.” Clarke drops a kiss on Aurelia’s curls. Aurelia still whines, but Clarke manages to rock her back to sleep. “There you go, little princess. You just hold onto this blanket.” Aurelia’s got one fist curled around her own little blankie, and the other one on the bigger blanket. When Clarke puts her back in her crib, she stays asleep.

Clarke makes it all the way out to the living room before Aurelia starts to bawl again.

Bellamy sighs and throws up his hands. “I give up. She’ll cry herself to sleep, I guess. She can’t cry all night, right?”

Clarke shrugs. “She can. She probably won’t, though.”

She doesn’t. Bellamy and Clarke talk quietly for a while, until Clarke realizes that the only shrieking they can hear is the wind.

“Finally,” he sighs. He looks so stupidly relieved, like he was worried Aurelia wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep.

Clarke smiles. “You are such a dad,” she tells him, picking a ball of lint out of his hair. “It suits you.”

Bellamy catches her hand and kisses her fingers. “Thank you.”

Clarke laughs. “I’m serious. I mean, I didn’t really know you before Aurelia but—”

“No, not about that. I mean, thank you for... everything else.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke says, “you don’t have to—”

“I know. I know. But you do so much for us. For her. For me. More—way more—than you need to.” Bellamy shifts and plants a lingering kiss on her temple.

“Anything for my favorite neighbor,” Clarke tells him, and she can feel the smirk against her face.

“What about me?” he asks cheekily, his breath hot where his mouth has moved behind her ear. He presses his mouth to the soft skin behind her earlobe and sucks gently.

Clarke shivers. “Third favorite.”

“Third?” He runs a hand up her thigh, and even through her sweats she’s warm. He nips at the skin of her neck with his teeth, and she jumps. “Surely I rate higher than that.” When she tries to shift toward him, he pushes her sideways and looms over her, propped on the hand that isn’t still wandering near her waistband.

“You might be—tied for second.” She stutters as he traces her collarbone in open-mouthed kisses. Bellamy’s leaning over to nip at the curve of her neck when he loses his balance and goes crashing to the floor, narrowly missing the coffee table. Clarke can see him in the dim lantern light, a stupid grin on his face, laughing. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he says.

Clarke takes it as a sign from the universe that it’s her turn now, so she rolls off the couch, shoves the coffee table away, and starts kissing Bellamy wherever she finds bare skin. He doesn’t agree; it’s not long before he sweeps her legs out from under her and flips her.

This time, his kiss is long and hard and hungry, and Clarke wants to lose herself in it, except there’s something poking her in the shoulder and when she digs it out, it’s a rubber duck that got wedged partially under her shoulder. She laughs, and Bellamy takes it from her. “What the duck?” he snaps, glaring at the toy.

Clarke snorts. “Dad jokes? Really, Bellamy?”

He tosses the duck away with a flick of his wrist. “Go big or go home,” he murmurs, kissing her jaw. “You wanna move this party somewhere more comfortable?”

Clarke smirks. “Bellamy Blake, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

He shrugs. “Depends.”

The thunder rolls across the sky outside, and Clarke thinks this will probably be the only time they’ll get to make as much noise as they want and not wake up the baby. “I’m in.”

Bellamy offers her a hand and Clarke uses her momentum to reach up and claim his mouth a bit more extensively before he drags her past Aurelia’s room—she doesn’t blame him for peeking in to make sure she’s really sleeping—and into his room.

The thunderstorm is a mixed blessing: they can’t see a single thing because the battery in the lantern died, but the noises they make are drowned in thunderclaps and the constant drum of the rain.


	29. Scrabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wick and Raven play a game while the power's out.

Kyle comes over when the power goes out. He brings a bag of snacks and a six-pack from his fridge, claiming that he doesn’t want good beer to go to waste just because the storm knocked out the power. Raven digs out a camping lantern, some flashlights, and a couple of big, thick candles.

“I hope you brought a board game or something, too,” Raven says, lighting the last candle.

“Don’t you have Scrabble?”

“You don’t want to play Scrabble with me,” she says. “I will slaughter you.”

Kyle snorts. “I accept your challenge.”

Raven tries to dissuade him, but he persists, and who is she to deny him the opportunity to get thoroughly crushed at a stupid spelling game? He pops the cap off of a bottle of beer and hands the bottle to Raven, who’s digging the Scrabble box out from under all the magazines shoved under the coffee table.

“Hey, Reyes, watch this.” Kyle lifts his hand up to his ear, points at the metal umbrella stand by the door, and snaps his fingers. The beer cap zings into the umbrella stand with a dull ping.

“Don’t dent my umbrella stand!” Raven complains.

Kyle pops the cap off a second bottle and flings it at the umbrella stand. It misses this time and thunks the door instead.

“If you break something with your stupid bar tricks, I’m not fixing it.” She drops a Scrabble tray in front of him and picks a tile out of the bag.

“Oh, come on.” He shakes his head and plucks a tile out of the bag, takes one look at it, and puts it back. “You go first.”

“You sure about that?” Raven asks, and shows him the Z tile she’s holding. “Draw your tiles and make a move.”

He picks seven little wooden squares out of the bag and then leans across the coffee table and kisses Raven. When she gives him a funny face, he explains, “Well, you said ‘make a move’.”

Raven snorts. “I meant the game, idiot.”

The game gets really intense really fast, mostly because Kyle keeps trying to make up stupid penalty rules, and by the end of the game the rules include: kissing your opponent somewhere other than the face for words shorter than five letters, taking off an article of clothing after using a triple word score, and kissing your opponent’s mouth for a letter worth more than two points (which, according to Kyle, includes letters worth extra points because they’re on letter score spaces).

Raven wins by over a hundred points, but her aggressive play style has left her pantsless and shirtless, and her final play is a single letter E on a triple word score that makes two two-letter words. It’s worth quite a few points, but she just wanted to break all the rules.

“You used a triple word score,” Kyle points out. He’s still got his shirt on, but Raven argued that because he played the letter P on a triple word score, he was obligated to remove his pants. “And two words shorter than five letters. And you used three letters worth more than two points.”

“Three? I only used one, and that’s the X.”

Kyle shakes his head, all seriousness. “No, you see, that E was worth six points, and the N right there is worth three.”

“You’re totally changing the rules,” Raven complains. “Penalty for changing the rules is... losing a shirt.”

“That’s changing the rules.”

“I don’t have a shirt to lose.”

“Fine. That’s one shirt lost for me, and all that other stuff for you.”

A loud thunderclap rolls across the roof, and lightning flashes through the window. Raven agrees to his new rules, and she even lets him pick which game they play next, but only after she has made good on all her leftover Scrabble penalties.

(Kyle might have lost at Scrabble, but he certainly doesn’t lose the next game.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing Wick's doing at the beginning of the chapter is the "bottle cap snap"—you can look it up if you don't know what it is.


	30. Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy's just making sure Monroe didn't die when the power went out.

The knock at the door wakes Katie Monroe out of a really nice dream. It's loud and angry and lasts forever, and she knows exactly who it is. She grumbles the entire way to the door, and when she yanks the door open, she glares at her neighbor. "The fuck do you want?" she demands.

"The power went out. I wanted to make sure you didn't trip on something and fall over and die or whatever."

Katie glances at his hands jammed into the pockets of his sweats, and the tense line of his shoulders. "Holy shit, Murphy, are you afraid of a fucking _thunderstorm_?"

"Oh, excuse me for looking out for your wellbeing."

Katie laughs. "You are. Jesus. How old are you, twelve?"

"Shut the fuck up," he mutters, turning back to his apartment.

"No, no. Shit. Come back. I'm sorry. I shouldn't make fun of you, even though it's pretty great that a grown-ass man is still scared of a thunderstorm."

"No way. I'm gonna go back to my own apartment where nobody's going to make fun of me for not liking when the damn building shakes."

Katie grabs him by the back of the shirt as he leaves, stopping him. "If you want, I could distract you from all the big scary noises."

John snorts. "Yeah, and then make fun of me when—"

A thunderclap booms, and he winces. Katie covers the smirk on her face and pretends it's a cough. She tugs on his shirt until he follows her, his face a disgruntled scowl.

She keeps him safe from the storm that night. (Not that he really notices it much, because she's so very good at distracting him.)


	31. Stand Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Clarke run into each other in the hallway.

Clarke wakes up to crying from the other room. She reaches behind her and smacks Bellamy on the leg. "Your kid's awake," she mumbles.

Bellamy lifts his head enough to see the alarm clock. "Yep, right on time."

"Aren't you going to go get her?"

"And let her loose on the world a full forty minutes early? Not if I can help it." He wraps an arm around Clarke and nuzzles her neck. It tickles, and she squirms.

"Bellamy, come on, you can't just leave her to cry."

He shrugs. "Worked well enough last night."

Clarke rolls her eyes and throws off the blankets. "You're terrible." She finds her clothes and pulls them on, and manages to get her shirt on the right way the first time.

Bellamy beats her to the punch, though; he's got his sweats on and is already rescuing his melodramatic daughter before Clarke even walks out of his bedroom. "Yeah, I came and got you early this morning. You can thank Clarke for that one, little princess."

Clarke snorts. "Right. You want me to watch her while you shower?"

He shrugs. "Nah, I'm fine."

"You need a shower, Bellamy Blake. I promise."

Bellamy gives her an idiotic smirk and says, "Well, we could have shared a shower, but _someone_ insisted on setting this one free early."

"Whatever. _I_ need a shower, especially if I'm going to look my mother in the face today."

"Your mom?"

"It's Thursday."

"Oh, right. Oh! Shit!" He slaps his free hand over his mouth. "I mean, fuck! Crap!" He makes a strangled noise. He strides out into the kitchen, Aurelia bouncing on his hip, and grabs his phone, tapping the code frantically. When he sees his messages, though, he looks relieved. "The power outage hit the museum, too, which means I don't have to work until after lunch because none of the systems will be up and running until then." He heaves a sigh. "Awesome."

Clarke just shakes her head. "Well, text me if you need anything. I'm going to shower and go bring art to some sick kids." She kisses Bellamy's stubbly cheek and Aurelia's smooth one, and goes back to her apartment.

Raven's walking back down the stairs, yawning, when Clarke goes out onto the landing. Clarke narrows her eyes and strides toward her neighbor. Raven mirrors her until they're standing toe-to-toe in the middle of the landing, arms crossed, having a staring contest.

Raven's the first to speak. "Well, looks like someone finally got some."

"Look who's talking," Clarke answers.

"I expect a report."

Clarke arches an eyebrow. "I will if you do."

"Macaroni and cheese?"

"Six sharp. Unless you're—" Clarke glances at the stairs "—busy."

Raven grins. "I still can't believe it took you two this long."

"Me? You and Wick have been dancing around for _ages_."

"That's different."

Clarke snorts. "Look, I gotta take a shower and get down to the hospital. But I'll see you later?"

Raven backs toward her apartment, pointing a finger at Clarke. "Six sharp. Don't forget."

"Not a chance."


	32. Waterworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy finds Monroe crying in the stairwell.

Katie slams the door behind her and stalks down a flight and a half of stairs before she's far enough away from John's apartment to breathe. She feels nauseous already, which doesn't help, and when she tries to stuff down her tears, she feels like she's going to puke. She drops onto one of the steps, curls into herself, and cries so she doesn't leave her lunch on the threadbare carpet.

She's not one for crying a lot or often, but by the time she hears footsteps coming down the stairs, the waterworks are turned all the way up. "Katie?"

It's John, of course, because he's incapable of just leaving her the fuck alone. "Go away," she snaps.

"Fuck, are you _crying_?"

She sniffles. "No. Leave me alone."

He sits down on the step beside her and puts a hand on her shoulder, which only makes her cry _more_ because this fucking moron actually cares about her. "If I said something—"

"Shut the fuck up." She slaps his knee, because it's the easiest thing for her to reach.

He's not going to give up, though, because for some reason she can't understand, he gives a shit about her. "Katie, what the fuck is going on?"

"Don't you ever fucking _listen_? I said _go away_."

He snorts. "Fat fucking chance. You didn't even cry when Roma left, so what the fuck's up with this rain dance?"

She glares at him, and then twists so she can punch him in the arm. Hard. He doesn't even flinch, and it's so like him to just take it that she punches him again a few more times until she starts crying again and there's no more strength left in her punches.

"Sorry," she mutters. "It's not even your fault."

He shrugs. "I thought everything was my fault."

She laughs weakly at that. "Okay, it's, like, fifty percent your fault."

"Whoa, whoa. How'd it go from zero to fifty so fast? Also, what's my fault? Or, fifty percent my fault. Whatever."

Katie hiccups. She can't not tell him, so she says, "I'm fucking pregnant, asshole. Or did you miss the part where I spent the whole fucking week puking my guts out?"

"I just thought you were sick or hungover or something! Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"What the fuck was I supposed to say?"

"'I'm fucking pregnant, asshole' would have been fine."

"Why the fuck do you even care?"

John throws up his hands. "I don't fucking know! I just do, okay? Get used to it. Against my better judgement, I actually care about another member of the human race."

He gets up, goes down to the little landing in the corner, and paces in a tight circle for a while. Katie watches him, trying to decide if she wants to punch him in the face with her fist or her mouth. Eventually, she says grumpily, "I swear to God, Murphy, if you pace any longer I'm going to barf all over these stairs."

He snorts and says in his lightest tone, "Fuck you, Monroe."

"Been there, done that. Or did you forget already?"

He stops with his back to her, arms crossed in front of him. When he turns around again to look at her, he's got a dead-serious expression on his face, and the soft look in his eyes makes Katie want to cry again.

"Well, I think I'm done sobbing like a girl, so I'm gonna go eat my weight in ice cream and, I don't know, contemplate life or something." She gets to her feet before she actually starts bawling again, and heads up the stairs.

(He comes over later with a pint of ice cream and holds her hair when it comes back up.)


	33. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy takes Clarke out on their first real date, but it doesn't go as planned.

"Did you hear about Monroe?" Clarke asks halfway through the meal. They're out on a real date—their first real date, because apparently grabbing drive-through cheeseburgers after a trip to the urgent care and picnics in the park with Aurelia don't count—and Bellamy doesn't know why he's so nervous, but he's hardly touched his food.

"Monroe? Yeah. Murphy's going out of his mind, the way he tells it."

Clarke smirks. "You should give him pointers. You know, dad to dad."

Bellamy shakes his head. "No, I don't know anything about pregnant women. I skipped that part, remember?"

Clarke nods. "Right." There's a pause, and Clarke pokes at a chunk of vegetable. "Maybe one day someone'll remedy that flaw in your education."

Bellamy blinks and nearly drops his fork. Is she—she can't be. But she's opted out of a glass of wine, and he doesn't think she had a cup of coffee this morning. It hasn't been that long since the thunderstorm, but it's been long enough that she could know. "Clarke?" he asks warily.

"What?"

"Is there something you want to share with the table?" he asks. It wouldn't be impossible, of course, but he's not sure they're ready for that just yet. He certainly isn't, not with Aurelia so young.

Clarke gives him a funny look. "What do you mean?"

It's too innocent, the way she says it, and he's going to faint right out of his chair here in a second. " _Shit_. It was _one time_ ," he mutters.

Clarke narrows her eyes. "Bellamy, what are you talking about?"

"You said—" And then he realizes he's misunderstood her in probably the worst way possible. "Oh. Oh, never mind."

"Bellamy," she says, and it's more like a warning than a question.

"Nothing. It's—I misunderstood what you said, that's all."

Clarke snorts, and he can't tell if she's actually amused, or only pretending to be. "What did you think I said?"

"I thought you were, ah—" He gestures vaguely at nothing in particular. "But you're not, so that's good."

Clarke frowns. "Wait, you thought I was _pregnant_?"

Bellamy wants to melt into his chair. "I didn't know! You didn't order any wine, and—"

"I didn't order any wine because I didn't _want_ any."

"I—I know. I know. I jumped to conclusions, and I'm just going to go put my foot in my mouth now because, okay, you're not pregnant."

"And what the hell do you mean _that's good_?"

Bellamy blinks, because how is it not fine and dandy that they're _not_ having a baby right now? "I mean, we're not ready."

Clarke looks like she's about to fly at him, and suddenly he's having flashbacks to dinners past, with someone else. " _We_? No one said anything about _we_."

"Well, _I'm_ sure as hell not ready. I don't know about you, but I can barely keep up with Aurelia."

"Right. So what if I _had_ been pregnant, Bellamy?" Clarke snaps, and this is so not an appropriate conversation to be having in a quiet restaurant.

"Clarke, please. Not here."

Clarke looks at the other patrons around them and while they haven't attracted a lot of attention, a few eyes nearby dart away from their table. She says nothing, just gets up and walks out without even grabbing her jacket.

He gets the check from the server and covers the bill and the tip with a fifty out of his wallet. He grabs his jacket and Clarke's, double-checks that they haven't left anything, and goes out onto the street, hoping Clarke's still out there.

She is, and the second she sees him, she jumps right back into it. "Would you have just left me high and dry, then, Mister I'm-Not-Ready?"

"Jesus, no! I wouldn't have—fuck. I'd have done the right thing." He holds out her jacket as a sign of his good intentions.

She snatches it from him, but doesn't bother putting it on.

"Clarke, what's the big deal? You're not pregnant. Are you?"

"That's not the point! The point is, I might have been, and you'd have, what? Stayed, out of some fucked-up delusion of obligation?"

"Would you rather I said I'd let you handle it all on your own?"

"I'd rather you not feel like you've got some kind of duty to me and mine just because some crazy bitch ex of yours forced you into fatherhood."

Bellamy's fists clench in his jacket. "Don't you dare bring my daughter into this," he growls.

"If I _were_ pregnant—and I'm not—then it would have been because I wanted it, and I don't need you to stick yourself to me just because we had sex."

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" Bellamy's frown gets a little deeper.

"It means I'm a grown woman and I can take care of myself, and maybe I'd have wanted a baby."

"You want—" Bellamy throws up his hands. "It's our first date! I think it's a little early to be talking about kids."

"We already _have_ a kid!"

"Oh, so now it's _we_ again?" Bellamy snorts. "She's _my_ daughter, and I thought we were going to leave her out of this."

"Leave her out of what?" Clarke snaps. "Like you said, it's our first date. I think it's a little early to assume there's a _this_ to leave anyone out of."

"Like hell!"

"Well, maybe it should be too early to assume it." Clarke folds her arms over her chest, her jacket tucked into one elbow. "Since you're clearly not ready."

He stares at her for a long, long moment, long enough for the line of cars at the nearby intersection to drive away and leave the street empty behind Clarke. "I can't do this," he says quietly. "I can't—" Bellamy shakes his head. "Do you want me to give you a ride home or get you a cab or—"

"I can take care of myself," she snaps.

"Right." He stands in front of her for a second or two longer and then he walks away.

When he gets home, he pays Octavia even though she protests, strips down to a t-shirt and boxers, and curls up in bed with his daughter. She'll be a terror come morning (Clarke's the one who spoils her like this), but he needs his little princess now, the way he always does when everything else comes crashing down around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahahaha. And you all thought this was going to be a comical disaster.


	34. What Friends Are For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke calls Raven for a ride home.

Raven's up on the sixth floor kicking Kyle's ass at _Need 4 Speed_ when her phone rings. She wants to ignore it, but she sees Clarke's name flash on her screen. "Oh, shit."

Kyle pauses the game when Raven picks up her phone.

"Clarke? Aren't you supposed to be on a date?"

Clarke's voice is shaky; she's been crying. "Can you come get me?"

Raven gets to her feet and grabs her keys off the coffee table. "Text me the address," she says, and then she hangs up.

"Bad?" Kyle asks, following her out onto the landing.

Raven snorts. "It's not good, that's for damn sure."

"Do you need anything?"

She shrugs, walking backwards toward the stairs. "I might need you to kick Bellamy's ass a little. I'll let you know."

"Well, let me know," he calls, and then Raven spins on her heel and jogs down the stairs as fast as she can. Clarke's message comes through between the second and third floors, and by the time Raven pulls out of the driveway, she knows exactly where she's going. She doesn't see Bellamy's car on the way, which is probably a good thing.

Clarke's standing against the corner of the restaurant building, watching the traffic. She starts toward the curb when she sees Raven's car, and pulls the door open the moment Raven stops. "Thanks," she says. Her eyes are red and she has very obviously been crying.

"What happened?" Raven asks, pulling away from the restaurant.

Clarke buckles up and leans against the window. "We had a fight. It was stupid."

"Fights usually are," Raven says. "What was it about?"

"We were talking about Monroe, and I said something that made him think I was pregnant—which I'm not—and he got all weird when I said I wasn't and—" Clarke takes a deep breath, but it's not enough to keep her from crying again.

"Wells?" Raven guesses, and Clarke just nods.

Way back in the day, when Raven was new to the building, Clarke had been serious with this guy she'd grown up with, Wells, and a couple months after Raven moved in, they had a really intense pregnancy scare. They fought for the better part of an hour—Monroe and Murphy style—which Raven had never heard them do, and then Wells stormed off. Clarke told Raven later that they made up over the phone the next day, and Wells basically proposed, and then the next morning the police found him dead in an alley with a knife in his chest. Clarke had planned to keep the baby anyway, because she loved Wells and because she wanted to, except it turned out she wasn't pregnant after all.

Raven just offers Clarke her hand to hold while they drive, because she can't let Clarke hug her right now. Back when the whole Wells thing happened, Clarke had spent a lot of time on Raven's couch crying on Raven's shoulder or shirt or decorative throw pillow. "Have you talked to Bellamy about Wells?"

Clarke shrugs. "Never came up."

"You should. You know, when he gets over being an ass and leaving you stranded at a restaurant."

"He didn't leave me stranded," Clarke says. "He offered to drive me home."

"Well, that was... nice of him?" Raven isn't sure now what the hell they actually fought about.

"After we fought, like he felt guilty or something."

Raven frowns, because she's not exactly understanding what it was they fought about. "So... you fought about you not being pregnant? I'm _super_ confused here."

"No. He said it was a good thing I wasn't pregnant because he wasn't _ready_."

Raven snorts. "Wow. Dick."

"Yeah." Clarke stares out the window, quiet, until they get back to the building. They pass Bellamy's sister on the way up the stairs, and she gives Clarke a withering glare which Raven is pretty sure Clarke doesn't deserve.

Clarke stops and stares at Bellamy's door when they get onto the landing, but Raven just says, "Don't even think about it."

"I'm not," she mutters, and goes into her apartment to change and wash her face. Raven makes popcorn and pulls up Netflix on her TV, and finds some chocolate, a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. By the time Clarke comes over, she's got it all ready to go, but it's mostly wasted on Clarke, who falls asleep fifteen minutes into some dumb indie movie about camping.

(It's uncomfortable, but Raven doesn't want to wake Clarke by trying to extricate herself, so she sleeps on the couch with Clarke's head in her lap like any good friend would.)


	35. Separation Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is radio silent, but Clarke can hear Aurelia through the wall.

Bellamy is radio silent for three days. Clarke knows he's around, because she can hear him when she's on the stairs, and at night when Aurelia screams and refuses to go to bed, and when he's coming home from work. But he doesn't talk to Clarke. No texts, no voicemails, nothing.

It's Clarke who breaks the radio silence, but only because she's had a seriously long day at work and Aurelia's screaming so loud it's keeping Clarke awake.

She picks up her phone and texts Bellamy. _Will you PLEASE do something about your screaming child? Some of us are trying to sleep._

His reply is as acerbic as her request. _Get some earplugs if it bothers you. It's not my fault she can't get to sleep._

Clarke frowns at the screen for at least twenty seconds, and then she calls him.

He picks up on the first ring. She can hear Aurelia crying in the background, echoing the crying coming through the wall. "Are you going to tell me how to take care of my child again?"

"Whose fault is it?" Clarke snaps, ignoring his question entirely.

"What?"

"You said it's not your fault she can't get to sleep, like you think it's _my_ fault."

"I didn't say that," Bellamy defends.

"It's what you meant."

"Damn it, Clarke, I don't have time for this." He hangs up, and Clarke throws a pillow at the wall she shares with Bellamy.

"Asshole!" she shouts, and it's probably not loud enough for him to hear, but it's cathartic anyway. Aurelia's cries die down after that, but Clarke still goes to sleep annoyed.

She runs into Bellamy on the landing the next morning on her way down to the mail room. Aurelia's half asleep on his hip, and he's fumbling with the door, muttering under his breath. Aurelia sees her and starts babbling excitedly, trying to wriggle away from Bellamy.

He lets her down with no more than a quick glance at Clarke.

"Hey, kiddo!" Clarke smiles and crouches down to give Aurelia a hug. "Are you going to school today?"

Aurelia grins. "Car!"

"Yeah, you have to go in the car to get to school."

Aurelia points at Clarke. "Car!"

"Oh, oh! No, sweetheart, not today." Clarke forces a smile.

"Aurelia," Bellamy says, and his voice is deep and commanding. "It's time to go."

"Oh, bye, sweetheart," Clarke says, and waves.

Clarke steps back, and Bellamy swoops in and picks up Aurelia. As soon as he starts to walk away, Aurelia bursts into tears. Bellamy carries his daughter down the stairs without even acknowledging her tantrum.

Clarke goes back into her apartment—she'll get the mail later—and spends the day staring at the second draft of her current project and getting nothing done.


	36. Advice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wick gives Murphy some advice about women.

Two weeks after Clarke and Bellamy's falling-out, the entire building is on eggshells. Anyone within thirty feet of Bellamy's apartment—regardless of walls or floors—can hear Aurelia's frequent tantrums, and anyone near the fourth floor is liable to walk into the middle of a Blake-Griffin staring contest or, most recently, whispered-shouting match.

As a sixth-floor tenant with a fourth-floor girlfriend, Kyle's pretty sure he has it the worst. Not only does he have to walk past the fourth floor twice a day just to get to and from work, but Raven always complains about walking up all those extra stairs to his apartment, so he's frequently required to sneak through the fourth-floor landing to get to Raven's place.

He's summoned to Raven's not ten minutes after he gets home, so he gathers up all his sneaking skills and starts down the stairs. On the fifth floor, Murphy's sitting against the wall next to Monroe's door.

"I wouldn't go down there if I were you," Murphy says.

Kyle listens, but hears nothing. "Staring contest?"

"They were arguing at full volume two minutes ago. You just missed it."

"What was it this time?"

Murphy shrugs. "Same as usual, talking in circles and accusing each other of stupid shit."

Kyle's familiar enough with their ongoing argument to know that Clarke probably brought up a time Bellamy wasn't the perfect dad, and Bellamy probably got all it was one time, and the argument almost certainly went nowhere in particular. "So what are you doing out here?" he asks Murphy.

Murphy shrugs again. "Waiting for her to open the door."

Kyle frowns. "Is she home, or—?"

Murphy leans his head back against the wall. "Yup, she's in there. We're getting in on the family-feud thing, too, or haven't you heard?"

"Right. Because—yeah. You could try notes under the door. Worked with my sisters."

Murphy stares at Kyle like _I am so not doing that_ , but Kyle won't be surprised if Monroe ends up with a dozen scraps of paper under her door by the end of the day.

"Well, good luck," Kyle says on his way down the stairs.

On the fourth floor, Kyle walks onto the landing at the same moment that Clarke slams her front door. Bellamy's standing in his own doorway, staring at Clarke's door and looking, as Raven would say, totally pathetic. Kyle knocks on Raven's door and hears Bellamy's door close, and as he gives Raven a very enthusiastic greeting kiss, he wonders if he shouldn't have given Bellamy the tip about the notes.

(On his way back up the stairs later, Kyle sees a corner of paper sticking out from under Monroe's door.)


	37. Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monroe and Murphy bicker over the results of her upcoming sonogram.

Katie bangs on Murphy's door until he opens it. "Do you _mind_?" he snaps.

She shoves her way past him, and he shuts the door behind her, flipping the deadbolt. "Yeah, I do. Why the fuck do you lock the door when you _know_ I'm coming over?" she asks as she makes herself comfortable on his couch.

Murphy shrugs and drops down next to her. "Maybe I didn't want anyone walking in on me."

"Damn it, Murphy, I told you I wanted to come over the next time you had a dance party!" She punches him lightly in the shoulder, and he laughs.

Maybe it's the raging pregnancy hormones, but every time he smiles or laughs or pretty much exists in front of her, she wants to crawl on top of him and eat him alive. She settles for grabbing him by the shirt and kissing him soundly. He smiles into her mouth, and when she lets go of him, he scoots a little closer to her. "So, how's the other one?"

Katie leans against him. "Pain in my ass," she grumbles. "I hate you."

Murphy lays a hand on her rounding belly. "You should have let me do the thing before you went to bed last night. You know it helps."

"I hate it. Makes me feel like an invalid."

"I got it out of a book," he reminds her. "I read a whole damn book that didn't have _any_ killers in it."

Katie wrinkles her nose. "Well, I'd hope a pregnancy book would be murder-free." She puts her hand over his. "I still hate the thing."

"It's not my favorite pastime, either, but the baby likes it well enough."

"It's like the weirdest fucking massage ever. Why can't you just do a _normal_ massage?" She looks up at him, and he just kisses her nose.

"You want me to do a regular, boring-ass massage? Fine. I'll do a regular, boring-ass massage tonight. And _tomorrow_ —" He grins.

Katie mirrors his grin. "Yeah, I know. You think you're so correct, only I'll have you know that I'm the one who has to feel this little fucker swirling around all the damn time, so I'm pretty sure he's a he."

Murphy smirks. "Hey, my deductive skills are _legendary_. I can pick out the killer in the first three chapters, and I'm almost always right."

Katie snorts. "Three out of ten is not 'almost always', and this is _not_ a murder mystery."

"Still a mystery, though."

"Not for long."

(He's right, this time, but she always knew he was.)

 


	38. Protips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy gives Bellamy some pointers on arguing with women.

John runs into Bellamy on the fourth floor landing. As usual, Bellamy pretends he wasn't staring moon-eyed at Clarke's door. "Don't you have a kid somewhere?" John asks.

The kid in question runs out of Bellamy's apartment at the sound of someone else's voice. She jumps up and down and holds out a block to him. It's got a Z on it, painted bright green.

"Hey, kid," he says, crouching down to her level. "What you got there?"

She says something with a "ba" sound in it.

"You got a block? That's a cool block."

She shoves it at him, and then puts it in his hand.

"Oh, thank you. How'd you know I like blocks so much?"

Aurelia runs back to Bellamy, without her block, and pats his leg and makes grabby hands at him until he picks her up. John tosses the block to Bellamy, who catches it with one hand. "I don't know why you keep insisting you're not dad material."

John snorts. "I stole a block from a one-year-old. I'm pretty sure that makes me a criminal, not a dad."

Bellamy shakes his head. "You'll do fine. I mean, at least she doesn't hate you."

John doesn't think for a second that Bellamy's talking about the child on his hip, not the way Bellamy keeps looking at Clarke's door. "Clarke doesn't hate you, man. If she hated you, she wouldn't bother fighting with you."

Bellamy gives the block back to Aurelia, who doesn't seem to remember or care that she _just_ gave it to John. "It's been over a month. The only time she talks to me is when she absolutely has to, and then we always end up on some tangent about something."

"I know," John says. "The whole _building_ knows. Sometimes, you just have to let it go."

"What?"

"Let it go. You know, like that kids' movie with all the snow? Just forget that you're right or wrong or whatever." He thinks for a minute about the fights he's heard. "Or you could do what I do and stick a note under her door. Works pretty well, most of the time."

Bellamy doesn't look like he believes it—John didn't believe it himself at first, because notes were sappy and cliché—but John knows Bellamy'll be leaving notes for Clarke all over the building by next week. "Thanks," Bellamy says.

John shrugs and starts down the stairs. "Just remember, she hates you about as much as you hate her."

"I don't hate her," Bellamy protests.

John raises a finger in the air and calls back, "Exactly!"

(Bellamy is skeptical about the note thing, but he writes one anyway, and lets Aurelia scribble on the paper with a crayon for good measure, or maybe good luck.)


	39. Taking Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy takes Murphy's advice.

Clarke finds the first note shoved under her door. It's about eighty-five percent Aurelia's scribbles, with a caption in Bellamy's handwriting at the bottom: _Sorry my dad is a diaper-head_. She almost finds it funny, except that she misses Aurelia like crazy.

The second note is a strip torn off the bottom of a bright pink flyer and shoved in her doorjamb. There's no scribbles, just Bellamy's handwriting. _Rooftop, 6:30pm_. She considers not going, but curiosity gets the better of her.

Aurelia's playpen is set up on the rooftop, and Aurelia's in it, all dressed up in cherry-patterned overalls. She's holding an oversized fake flower with plaid petals and a bright pink center, and when she sees Clarke she begs with her little grabby hands to be picked up.

The third note is taped to Aurelia's back. _I don't want to fight any more. Can we just talk like normal people? Please. Pretty please. With fresh summer cherries on top. - B_

"I know you're up here, Bellamy Blake," Clarke calls out, and when she turns around he's standing in front of the stairwell door. "What happened to not bringing your daughter into this?"

"I'm trying to _end_ this," he says.

Clarke can't believe what she's hearing. "You're trying to—" She puts Aurelia back in her playpen and blinks furiously to keep her vision clear.

It isn't until she's walking past him to the stairwell that he realizes what he's said. "No! No! Oh, god, no, that's not what I meant." He grabs her by the arm. "Clarke, wait!"

"What did you mean, Bellamy?"

"I'm trying to end the fight. Not—not _this_." He gestures between them. "Whatever this is, I sure as hell don't want it to end."

Clarke scrubs at her face, because now she's really going to cry and that would actually be pathetic. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry I wasn't more enthusiastic about you hypothetically being pregnant. It just sort of took me by surprise."

Clarke shakes her head. "No, you were right. It would be really shitty timing. Aurelia's still half a baby. Sorry I ruined our first date."

Bellamy snorts. "If anyone ruined our first date, it was me. I'm the one who jumped to conclusions."

"I overreacted, so I'm pretty sure _I_ ruined it."

"If you're absolutely sure you want to take this one, I'll give it to you," he jokes. "And what I said about you shoving your way into mine and Aurelia's lives all the time—I didn't mean it like that. She loves you to death, and I'm—" His cheeks turn a few shades pinker than normal. "I'm kind of partial to you, too."

Clarke feels her face heat with the warmth of a smile. "Well, I'm not ashamed to admit I love that kid to death." She gives him a saucy smirk. "You're alright, too, I guess."

Bellamy scoffs, an amused smile growing on his face. "Oh, really? You _guess_?" He steps toward her and traces his fingers over her jaw. "Can we go back to not fighting?"

Clarke nods. There's more for them to talk about—she will have to tell him about Wells one of these days, for starters—but after a month of fighting, she's worn herself out and all she wants is to have her Blakes back.

He kisses her, sweet and tender and gentle, and they're quickly interrupted by Aurelia, who makes it clear she's feeling ignored. Bellamy laughs and picks her up out of her playpen. "A-plus performance, little princess. Can you take her?" he asks Clarke. "And I'll get the playpen."

Clarke takes Aurelia and hugs her as tight as she dares. She takes Aurelia downstairs and helps Bellamy get her ready for bed, and for the first time in a month, Aurelia goes to sleep with hardly a fuss.

(Clarke sleeps well that night, too, even though Bellamy complains about her cold toes in the morning.)


	40. Night Watch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke comes home late from a work party.

It's eleven-thirty before Bellamy hears Clarke's apartment door. She had a thing tonight, some kind of work party. He's been listening for her door; he didn't think it was supposed to go this late.

Half an hour goes by, and Clarke hasn't texted him or knocked on his door, so he checks to make sure Aurelia's still sleeping, grabs the baby monitor, and goes over to Clarke's apartment. He knocks, and she doesn't answer. "Clarke?" he calls through the door. She doesn't answer, and it's dead-bolted when he tries it. He gets her spare key from its hiding place and unlocks her door.

The place is dark and quiet; the only light is coming through the kitchen window from the street. "Clarke?" he calls. "It's just me."

He flips on the hallway light and knocks on her bedroom door. "Clarke?"

He hears a sniffle and when he looks around, he sees Clarke's bare foot sticking out from behind the bathroom door. He turns on the bathroom light and crouches in front of her; she's changed into sweats and a t-shirt. She's been crying, quietly, and she stares through him when he kneels in front of her. Her arms rest on her knees, and her hands are shaking. "Clarke, what happened?" he asks.

Her eyes focus on his face and she pulls her knees tighter into her chest. "I'm fine," she says stubbornly.

Bellamy reaches up to move her hair away from her face, and she shies away from him.

"Don't."

Bellamy pushes the bathroom door away from her so he can see her face; thick, bruised line segments follow her jawline into her hair, and a cold rage churns in Bellamy's stomach. "Did someone do this to you?" he asks. When she doesn't answer right away, he begs, "Clarke, please, tell me what happened."

Clarke sniffles. "It's just Cage."

"Cage?"

She huffs angrily. "Wallace. He's the firm's VP."

The cold rage turns into a small blizzard. "What did he do to you?"

Clarke shakes her head. "Nothing. He didn't—he tried to, but he didn't, okay? I'm fine."

Bellamy sighs and wraps his arms around her as best he can and kisses the top of her head. "I'm sorry," he murmurs into her hair. "I'm sorry I didn't go with you. If I'd known—I mean, I could have—"

"You have a sick baby," Clarke says wearily. "Can we talk about something else? Please?"

Bellamy sits back on his heels. "Yeah. You want some tea or something? I've got lychee ginger."

Clarke shakes her head. "I'm just tired."

"Okay." He gets up and offers her a hand. "Do you need anything?"

Clarke doesn't let go of his hand after she's stood up. "Can I stay with you?"

"Of course." He keeps her hand in his on the way through her apartment and into his. She sits on the end of his bed while he changes and brushes his teeth, and he's acutely aware of her eyes on him. They haven't spent many nights together—there was the thunderstorm, and twice since the end of their fight—so he grabs an extra blanket from his closet, and one of the pillows off his bed.

"Where are you going?"

He turns slowly. "I… was going to take the couch?" He says the entire thing as a question, because he's not really sure what Clarke wants. 

Clarke stares at him, one eyebrow arched, waiting for him to guess the right answer.

"Or… you… want me to stay?"

Her expression when she nods clearly says _you're an idiot_.

Bellamy makes a sweeping bow, nearly knocking over a lamp with the pillow. "As you wish, princess." He stuffs the blanket back into the closet and joins Clarke on the bed. She snuggles up to him, and he drops a kiss on her head before she falls asleep, trying not to notice the bruises on her skin.

 


	41. Finger Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven's just not so into the whole finger-paint thing.

Raven's not surprised to walk into Clarke's apartment and find a toddler running amok, not after Clarke quit her job at the design firm and went freelance a few weeks ago. She wouldn't say why she quit, but it's been giving her plenty of time to hang out with Aurelia.

Today, Raven finds them in the kitchen, table pushed to one side. Aurelia's in nothing but a diaper, and Clarke's in sleep shorts and a tanktop. Aurelia, Clarke, and all the paper covering the kitchen floor is covered in finger paint.

"What are you doing?" Raven asks.

Clarke smiles. "Hey. Wanna paint?"

Raven shakes her head. "Not really my speed." She watches as Aurelia puts a paint-covered hand in her mouth and pulls a face when it tastes bad. "Uh, are you sure she's supposed to be eating the paint?"

Clarke shrugs. "It's fine. This is the paint we use with kids in the hospital, too. It tastes really bad, but you could actually drink it."

Raven gags audibly. "That sounds disgusting. Why would you even _want_ to do something like that?"

"Well, tomorrow's Father's Day, and I guess Aurelia's daycare project got ruined, so we're making a new one."

"Da-ee!" Aurelia squeals, slapping more paint on the paper beneath her.

Clarke grabs a nearby towel and wipes her hands off, then grabs her phone off the kitchen table and snaps a few pictures of Aurelia.

"God. It's so adorable I might puke. I can't even handle myself any more. Between you guys and the fifth floor, I'm going to get diabetes just by being around all this disgusting sweetness." Raven pulls a face. "Have fun with your nasty-ass paint."

"You're leaving already?"

"Before I get paint on me, yeah. I'm having flashbacks to high school art class." Raven waves to Aurelia, who's busy seeing how much purple paint she can put on her leg before someone stops her, and then walks back to her apartment.

In the middle of a text to Kyle, she gets a message from Clarke, and it's just a picture of Aurelia grinning, with a paintbrush in her mouth.

She gets another message right after Kyle knocks on her door, and this time it's a picture of Aurelia sitting on a sheet of paper; in front of Aurelia it says "Raven" inside a heart shape.

"I mean, look at how cute that is! How can you not want to just pick her up and blow raspberries in her adorable little belly?"

Raven gives Kyle a serious look. "Keep dreaming, buddy. You're gonna have to find a way to borrow someone else's kid, because I am _not_ doing it."

Kyle heaves an exaggerated sigh. "Fine."

An hour later, Clarke sends Raven a picture of Aurelia passed out on the kitchen floor.

"Oh, this is _killing_ me," Kyle moans dramatically. "Can we at least get a puppy?"

"No pets except ones that live in boxes. Says so on the rental agreement."

Kyle makes a pouty face, and he looks so pathetic that Raven snaps a picture of it and sends it to Clarke, with the caption _See? I have one too._

 


	42. Don't Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy's a walking pile of worry.

John's at work when he gets a phone call from Jackson that he's pretty sure signals the end of the world.

He doesn't even feel bad about leaving Sterling alone on shift in the shop, just tells him there's a family emergency and clocks out. He drives as fast as he can and manages to hit every single red light between the pawn shop and the ER, and when he gets there, he has to resist the urge to straight-up fight everyone between him and Katie. Jackson's still there, though, and a few quiet words with the receptionist and the nurses and (he finds out later) a plea from Katie get him back into the tiny room where Katie's lying on a gurney, her eyes red and her forehead wrinkled with worry. She's in a hospital gown with a blanket pulled up over her belly, and there's an IV in her arm.

"What the hell happened?" he asks her, pulling up the rolling chair and grabbing her hand. He's been a walking pile of worry since Jackson's call, and the whole gurneys-and-hookups thing really didn't help.

"Your dumbass child's trying to claw her way out early. They said she's fine, but it scared the shit out of me." She links her fingers in his and squeezes a little.

"Shit." He leans his head against their joined hands. Katie's only at twenty-eight weeks; he might not be an expert on pregnancy, but he knows that's way too early. "So what happens now?"

"They put me on bed rest and meds, try to keep her in there as long as possible."

John puts a gentle, tentative hand on Katie's belly. "And if that doesn't work?" he asks, his thumb tracing a little arc back and forth over the blanket.

"Jackson said the hospital's got some of the best tech around; if she's born early, she's born early, and she'll just have to hang out in the NICU for a while." Katie shrugs one shoulder. "It's gonna be fine. Don't worry so much."

He worries anyway. She refuses to let him take time off work, even when they send her home after a few days of successful bed rest in the hospital. He protests, but she reminds him that it could be weeks before the baby's born, and she _can't_ work so he's gonna have to. He hates having to be at work all day. He texts her at every available opportunity and calls on all his breaks, just to make sure she's okay.

(She tells him he's being stupid so she doesn't cry about how good he is to her.)

 


	43. Baseball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maya, Harper, and Monroe play cards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone cares, I'm casting Kate Mulgrew as Mrs. Sinclair (who doesn't even exist in the show but shhhhhh).

Harper's losing. Badly.

It was her idea to bring a deck of cards and teach Monroe to play Baseball, and she's seriously regretting it, because Monroe has caught on way too fast. Maya's been doing pretty well, but Harper might as well not even know the rules.

It's the seventh inning, and Harper's got more than thirty points against her, mostly because her first two innings landed her with a queen each when Monroe ended the inning way too fast for Harper's liking. Maya's at twelve under, and Monroe's leading with fourteen under.

"I'll take that," Monroe says happily, grabbing the five off the top of the discard pile and laying it on top of the five that's laying face-up in front of her. "That clears my column, and that means I'm out."

Harper gets a nine from the draw pile, and groans when it turns over an eight. "Kill me," she complains. "I'm pretty sure I can't win this game."

Maya laughs. "Probably not, but I can!" She's just drawn a joker and swapped it with her last face-down card, a queen.

Harper tallies the points, and shakes her head. "Forget it. You two can battle it out in the last two innings. I'm just going to watch, because I'm pretty sure it's actually impossible for me to win." She turns the score sheet to Maya and Monroe.

Monroe laughs. "I'm new to this game, and I know that's terrible."

"Beginner's luck," Harper claims.

Someone knocks at the door, and Monroe shouts "COME IN!" at the top of her lungs. It's only been three days since Monroe came home from the hospital, but the whole building's in and out of the apartment all day.

Sinclair knocks on the bedroom's doorjamb on his way into the room. He's holding a foil-covered plate, and Harper smells Mrs. Sinclair's baking. "The missus bids me bring you young ladies some cookies."

Monroe smirks. "Is that really what she said?"

Sinclair laughs. "Well, it was more like _get out of my kitchen_." He nods to the cards. "What are you playing?"

"Baseball," Monroe says.

"Never heard of it."

Harper shrugs. "It's not hard. We've got two innings left in this game, and then you're welcome to join."

Sinclair grabs an extra fold-up chair from the wall by the TV and sits down. "Well, I've got time." He watches the next two innings intently and, after a few questions about game mechanics, he claims he's got the gist of the game.

(They _all_ regret letting the old engineer play.)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Google tells me that the card game they're playing is actually a variant of [Golf](http://www.wikihow.com/Play-Golf-%28Card-Game%29). (So don't go looking for the stud poker variant; that's NOT what they're playing!)
> 
> Rules changed from Golf:  
> Jokers are included. Jacks and jokers are worth -3 points. Queens are 13 points. Kings are 0 points.  
> The grid is 4x2 instead of 3x2.  
> Cancelling out pairs is handled differently.  
> You can't replace a face-up card if it's in the same column as another face-up card.
> 
> Anyway, the point is that the lowest possible score in a round is -24, if you're playing with four jokers and you magically happen to get ALL the jacks and jokers in your grid. (Highest possible score, if you're curious, is 92.)


	44. Racing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy comes home to find Monroe having too much fun.

Jasper's in dead last, careening through trees and trying to find his way back onto the race track. Miller and Monty are ahead of him, but they've crashed one too many times and lost sight of Monroe, who's probably going to lap Jasper if he keeps driving the wrong way.

"Why are we playing this? I suck at this game!" Jasper complains.

Monty glances at him. "It was _your_ idea, Jas. I said we should bring Clue or Monopoly, but you said 'No, let's bring a racing game, because there's no way a pregnant woman is going to school us all into next semester!'"

"Uh, I definitely didn't say it like that."

"Nah, those were pretty much your exact words, bro," Miller says, and Jasper knows it's only because he's always on Monty's side. "I wanted to play Monopoly. I'm good at Monopoly."

"No, you don't want to bring Monopoly," Monroe says, picking a carrot out of the bowl of vegetables on her nightstand. "I'd slaughter you all at Monopoly." She's already crossed the finish line, and Monty and Miller are battling it out for second; Jasper's just hoping he figures out which way to drive before the race ends.

The front door of the apartment slams, and Jasper hears keys and the distinct rustle of paper grocery bags. "I got it," he says, and abandons his controller, because he's never going to finish the race at this rate anyway.

He's just in time to catch a teetering grocery bag. "Hey, Murphy."

"How is she?"

"She's fine, man. Just like she was when you texted. And called. And texted again."

"Hey, when _you_ have a pregnant woman on bed rest in _your_ bed, you can bitch at me for checking up on mine."

Jasper puts the grocery bag on the counter and throws up his hands. "I recant! But seriously. We had fun."

"Not too much fun." Murphy looks worried, like Monroe's going to go critical if she isn't at least a little bored.

"Well, no, because it turns out she's crazy good at racing virtual cars. It's not even a contest." Jasper looks back toward the bedroom just as Monty and Miller walk out. "Hey. You guys out?"

"Yeah. Loser cleans up, right?"

Jasper can see the way Monty leans toward Miller, and he's lived with them long enough to know he doesn't want to go home right away anyway. "Loser cleans up the game. You two are gonna clean up any mess _you_ make."

Monty looks offended. "We're not going to make a mess, are we, Nathan?"

"Well, there's still half a can of whipped cream in the fridge..."

Jasper pulls a face. "Ugh! Get out of here!"

After they're gone, Murphy says, "You know Monroe's officially out of her apartment, right?"

Jasper nods. "Kane says he's already got a tenant. He offered me the empty place up on the sixth floor, but I'd rather suffer Monty and Miller."

Murphy shrugs off a shiver. "Yeah, I wouldn't want to live in an apartment where someone got murdered. Even if it's been two and a half years."

"Yeah." Jasper pats the countertop. "I'm, uh, gonna go get my stuff and get out of your guys' hair."

"You don't have to rush off. I mean, Katie and I are probably just going to watch a movie and eat dinner. I doubt she'd object to someone's company besides mine."

Jasper shrugs. "Thanks, but..." He lowers his voice. "She's kind of scary when she gets mad."

Monroe shouts for Murphy from the back room; she sounds less than pleased.

Murphy nods. "Can't argue with you there," he says, and he goes to find out what exactly Monroe wants.

Jasper thinks he should probably get the console, but nobody's going to use it tonight—he's got a project to work on, and Monty and Miller are otherwise occupied—so he just sneaks out the door and goes home.

(When he looks in his fridge later, he notices a conspicuously empty spot where the whipped cream usually goes.)


	45. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite Murphy's best efforts, the baby comes early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ([character faces](http://smallerontheoutside.tumblr.com/post/115913134694/the-characters-of-100-ark-street-marcus-kane))

Quinley Ray Monroe is born ten days after Katie's trip to the ER, even though John did his damnedest to keep her safe and sound right where she was.

He's the one to blow on her face, to tell her it's okay to use those little lungs of hers, and then she gets whisked away while he's still up to his elbows in fluids and blood and gunk. He wipes his arms off with a towel and takes Katie's hand.

She jerks it away from him and flicks him in the forehead. "The fuck are you doing? Don't leave her alone!"

He blinks at her. "Katie, they're—"

"I don't give a flying _fuck_. _Go_."

He kisses her sweaty forehead and then he's gone, following the signs to the NICU. A nurse checks his wristband when he gets there, and points him to a waiting area with two chairs. He waits anxiously until the nurse comes to get him again.

There are a few other babies in the ward, all of them in the little incubator boxes. He goes to the one labelled MONROE, K. Quin's got tubes and wires going everywhere and he reminds himself that they're all there to help her grow. "Can I hold her?" he asks.

The nurse shakes her head. "Not yet." She gestures to the little portholes in the side of the box. "You can touch her and talk to her. Just be gentle."

John pulls open one of the portholes and reaches through it to lay a hand on Quin's little arm. She's so small, and so fragile, and so perfect, and he wants nothing more than to wrap himself around her and keep her safe. She's still awake, but her eyes are unfocused, and she looks like she's about to pass right out. "You're going to be as stubborn as your mom, aren't you?" he asks.

Quin blinks once, and then she's asleep. John strokes her little arm, careful not to jostle any of her wires, and when he tickles her palm, she tightens her teeny fingers reflexively around his big one.

He stays there for a good long while, just letting Quin hold his finger, and then he remembers he should probably go check on Katie. He kisses his finger and puts it on Quin's forehead, and then closes the porthole and navigates back through the maze of hallways to Katie's room.

Katie's asleep when he gets there, or at least he thinks she is until she sniffles. He can't help but roll his eyes because, yeah, it sucks, but it's going to be okay. Still, he pulls up a chair and rests his chin on his arms at the edge of the bed. "You're a broken faucet, you know that?" he tells her. He's only told her that a million times since that afternoon in the stairwell.

She laughs weakly, and picks at some lint on the bedsheet. "Yeah, well, I managed to fuck up being _pregnant_ and now my kid is living in a box. Excuse me if I'm not a big fucking ray of sunshine."

John can't help the smile on his face. He looks like a moron, he knows, but _Quin_. "She's perfect, you know."

"I didn't even get to see her," Katie pouts. "Not really."

He takes her hand and twines his fingers in hers. "You want to?"

"Well, duh, asshole."

"Okay. Let's go."

"Right now?"

He shrugs. "I'll go get the nurse."

"I'm not supposed to get out of bed for twelve hours."

John shifts so he's sitting up straighter, and he gives her his most serious look, because this is for real. "I will move this entire bed down there if I have to." He would actually move the whole _planet_ for her, but she doesn't need to know that now. He starts to get up, but she stops him with a squeeze of her hand.

"John—"

"What?"

"I'm tired. She's tired. Just—we'll go tomorrow."

"But you—"

"I know."

He doesn't get it. He really doesn't. But she's giving him her puppy eyes and it's so unfair when she does that, so he sits back down. "Are you sure?"

She nods, even though she's starting to cry again, which he also doesn't understand. It's a damn good thing he gave up on understanding and has adopted a _just go with it_ kind of attitude. Katie cries for no reason John can fathom, and eventually she falls asleep and he falls asleep in the chair next to her.

If he'd been told a year ago that he was going to be completely stupid about another human being, he'd have suggested a long walk off a short pier. If he'd been told he'd be this stupid about two other people in the universe, he might have taken that walk himself. But he has this precious girl of his now, and Katie, and he might as well buy himself some really comfy concrete shoes because he's in over his head, and he's planning on staying that way.


	46. Sandcastles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke take Aurelia to the beach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for [enoughtotemptme](archiveofourown.org/users/enoughtotemptme) and her "formal request" for bucket-on-head beach-trip baby.

Bellamy puts the final touch on his sandcastle—a toothpick from the sandwich he ate for lunch—five seconds before Aurelia crashes right through it. She trips, topples face-first into the sand, then gets up and keeps right on going.

Bellamy groans. "Do you see what she just did?" he complains to Clarke.

Clarke shades her eyes with her hand and looks over at him. She's stretched out on their picnic blanket, basking in the sun. "Tragic," she tells him. "The sand palace, which the sand people worked so hard to build, was destroyed by a freakishly gargantuan child hell-bent on that thing the sand people all despised: fun."

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "Ha, ha."

He watches Aurelia run toward the water, and he follows her, because he's told her four times already that she can't go in the water without him, but she seems hell-bent on not listening.

She shouts, and points at the water.

"Yeah, that's the ocean," he says.

She stands at his feet and makes grabby hands. "Up me!"

Bellamy swings her up, over his head, and she giggles as he settles her on his hip. "You wanna go in the water?" he asks. He'd been leery of taking his daughter to the open ocean, so when Clarke had insisted on a beach trip, Bellamy had insisted on a safe bit of beach, where Aurelia was less likely to get eaten by sharks.

Aurelia starts to cry when Bellamy walks toward the ocean, though. They'd gone to the water earlier in the day, and she'd tripped and gotten a face full of ocean. Bellamy had held onto her hand the entire time, and hauled her up before she could choke, but she'd gone hours without so much as looking at the water.

He reminds her that it's okay, he's got her, but when she just gets more hysterical, he sighs and takes her back to the blanket. Clarke's sitting up, rubbing sunblock on her legs, and Aurelia climbs into her lap.

"Oh, is Daddy being a meanie?" she asks, and Aurelia nods. "I'll save you. Besides, you need more sunblock, baby girl." Clarke hands her the bottle of baby sunblock. "You wanna do it?"

"No!" Aurelia hands the bottle back to Clarke and tries to get away, but Clarke catches her and brushes off the sand with a towel. Bellamy tries to help, but Clarke's got some kind of wizardry going on, because she manages to get every inch of Aurelia's skin re-covered in sunblock without much of a fuss. "Do you wanna wear your hat?" Clarke asks, and Aurelia lets Clarke put the fisherman-style hat on her head and tie it under her chin. "Look at you! Such a nice hat."

Aurelia grins and goes off to play. Bellamy sits on the blanket with Clarke and reapplies his own sunscreen. "Can you—?" he asks, handing Clarke the sunscreen.

Clarke gives him a wicked grin that really shouldn't ever be used in public. "It would be my pleasure," she says, and starts running her hands all over his back, under his tank.

"You're impossible," he snorts. "Also, I'd appreciate it if you'd actually _use_ the sunblock."

"Oh. Right." Clarke slaps sunscreen on his back in a very un-teasing, utilitiarian way, and Bellamy thinks maybe he should have found a quieter stretch of beach, where they might have gotten away with a little less propriety.

"Daddy!" Aurelia shouts, and Bellamy looks up. His daughter is covered in sand again, and she's got the purple bucket upside down on her head, over her hat. "Look!"

Bellamy laughs. "I see you! Nice hat!" He grabs Clarke's phone from her beach bag—his is somewhere near the bottom, the battery sucked dry from trying to use the GPS—and snaps a picture of his daughter. "How much longer do you think she's going to last?" he asks Clarke. "She hasn't had a nap yet." She's been too busy playing with and without the other kids on the beach to nap, and she's been so well-behaved thus far that Bellamy hasn't felt the need to make her lay down.

"Maybe if you're lucky, she'll stay awake and just pass out on the way home."

He's not that lucky. Aurelia gets cranky soon after, and Bellamy has to promise her more beach time after her nap in order to get her to lay down long enough to fall asleep. They move into the shade for naptime, and it's such a perfect day that Bellamy doesn't realize he's fallen asleep until he's waking up. He checks the time; he's been asleep over two hours. Clarke and Aurelia are gone, and a little flutter of panic runs through him until he sees them standing at the edge of the water, waves licking their feet.

"Figures," he mutters, but he feels his heart thump a little when he thinks about Clarke gently coaxing Aurelia into the water, teaching his daughter to overcome her fears. He's surprised, like he always is, at how much he likes the sight of them together.

(He likes them together a little less when they team up and bury him up to his neck in sand.)


	47. Motel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beach keeps them later than they expected, so they stop at a motel for the night.

They leave the beach much later than they'd planned, and Bellamy's not going to drive all the way home this late, so they find a half-decent motel room instead.

Clarke lays on the big king bed, flipping through the photo roll on her phone. Aurelia's passed out next to her—has been since the second they drove away from the beach—and Bellamy's getting out of the shower.

"I swear, if I never see another grain of sand, it'll be too soon," he complains on his way out of the bathroom. He's got a pair of sweats slung low on his hips, and he's rubbing at his hair with a towel.

Clarke looks at Aurelia next to her. "Well, you're gonna see a lot of it in the morning." She shows him a picture of Aurelia, covered in sand, with a plastic bucket on her head.

He groans.

"Or maybe I'll be nice and take over bath duty, since you hate the sand so much."

Bellamy throws the towel back toward the bathroom and stands over the opposite side of the bed, gradually and cautiously getting his daughter out of her sandy bathing suit. Clarke's trying to cull all the extra shots from her picture roll, the pocket shots and duplicates and the ones that not even heavy editing will salvage, so she can just drop the good ones into a photobook.

"Would you _please_ put a shirt on?" she snaps.

Bellamy snorts and goes to the sink. She thinks he might be going to their bags for a shirt, but he just comes back with a washcloth, baby wipes, and a clean diaper. Aurelia fusses a little in her sleep, but Bellamy manages to at least get most of the food and sand and general kid mess off of her, and her diaper changed, without her waking up all the way.

"I've never seen her this tired," Bellamy says. "Except when she was a baby."

Clarke arches an eyebrow. "She still _is_ a baby."

"You know what I mean." He shifts Aurelia a little closer to Clarke and stretches out on the bed, turning his attention to the TV.

"Seriously," Clarke says. "I really need you to put a shirt on."

Bellamy frowns. "Why?"

"Because it's distracting, that's why. I'm trying to cull the dud pictures so I don't have to do it later."

Bellamy makes a show of yawning widely and laying with his hands behind his head so that he couldn't possibly show _more_ of his unfairly-toned torso. Clarke growls, and then gets up and digs through her bag for her sketchbook and a pencil. If he's going to lay like that, she's going to take full advantage of it.

She's just sketching in the rough stuff when he starts to move. "Don't," she says. "Don't move. I already started, so now you have to stay until I'm done."

Bellamy shrugs and puts his hands back behind his head, still watching the TV.

He falls asleep before she finishes her sketch, hands still folded behind his head. She nudges his foot with hers. "Get the light," she tells him, and he reaches over and flicks off the lamp. Her eyes adjust quickly to the semidark, and she likes the way his body is outlined by the streetlight shining through the thin curtains.

"Clarke?" he mumbles when she thinks he's gone back to sleep.

"Yeah?"

He doesn't say anything else. He wants to, or intends to—she can see it in the way the lines of his body shift against the light—but he doesn't. Clarke reaches across the dark space and, after a bit of blind groping, finds Bellamy's hand.

"Did you have fun?" she asks.

"Yeah. Did you?"

"Mm. Some." She wonders if he can see her smirk in the dimness. "Even though my sandwich was more sand than wich."

"You can thank the little princess for that."

Clarke has a flash of a memory—well, more than that, because the picture's also on her phone—of Bellamy wielding a set of plastic cutlery and looking oh-so-serious about the sandcastle he built. It never got finished, because Aurelia tripped and fell into it fifteen seconds later, and he'd griped about it the whole rest of the day, that he couldn't finish the castle for his princess.

"We should do it again," she tells him.

"Mm, definitely," he mumbles, half-asleep again. "Only let's go somewhere without all the sand."

Clarke heaves a melodramatic sigh. "If you insist."

"Goodnight, princess," is the last she hears out of him for the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The follow-up to yesterday's chapter, and also happy birthday to the dedicatee of last chapter! ([go spam her with birthday wishes omg](http://enoughtotemptme.tumblr.com/ask))


	48. Gunner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you leave the window open, all manner of things can get in.

The building's air conditioning system goes on the fritz in the middle of the worst heat wave in three years, which means that everyone has to rely on window mounted swamp coolers, standing fans, and ingenuity. Bellamy has resorted to letting Aurelia sleep in his room at night, because he's afraid she'll get too hot without the swamp cooler, or too cold with the fan, or something.

But he doesn't let her nap in his room. She still has to nap in her own bed, despite all her protests. He turns the fan up and lets it oscillate to keep her cool, but even so she cries and whines about napping. At first, he'd thought it was because she was cold, or hot, or uncomfortable, and maybe she is a bit (but who isn't in this heat?) but he quickly learns that she's just crying because she's a kid and she wants someone to pay attention to her twenty-five hours a day.

So he lays spread-eagled on the living room floor in his boxers with the ceiling fan on high and the windows open, and waits for her to quit crying and go to sleep already. His phone beeps with a text message from Clarke.

_Guess who gets to paint Quin's room!!!_

Clarke's been trying to convince Murphy for weeks to let her do a set of murals in the nursery, and even though she's got half a dozen sketches already and is going to do it on her own dime, he's been resistant to agree to it without consulting Monroe first (and probably a dozen baby-book websites).

 _Congratulations_ , Bellamy replies, with a smiley face added for good measure. _Does this mean we're going to celebrate?_

Clarke sends back a smiley face with its tongue out; two minutes later, she's laying next to him, a few inches away, in a pair of sleep shorts and a sports bra.

"Hey."

"Hey, princess."

"What happened to celebrating?" she teases.

Bellamy groans. "Too hot." He closes his eyes and tries to will himself colder. Clarke runs her fingernails lightly down his side, and he jumps. "Clarke!"

She giggles. "Come on, Bellamy. Please? Your kid's asleep, isn't she?"

He listens, and all he hears is the whir of the many fans in the apartment. No crying baby. "Wow. Yeah. That was fast."

He's curious, though, because he wouldn't put it past her to be quiet just so he'd come check on her, so he gets up and sneaks down the hall. He peeks in Aurelia's room, and she's laying in her crib, asleep, with a slender tabby cat stretched out next to her. He snaps a picture before he wakes the cat or the baby, and then stares at the cat for a minute, trying to figure out whose cat it is. It's got a sleek, brown collar, and when he gets closer, he sees the name on the plain circular tag: _Gunner_.

Clarke comes in behind him. "Whose cat is that?" she whispers, and the cat's eyes open.

The cat looks at Bellamy, and Bellamy looks at the cat. "I don't know." He reaches a hand in the crib and scratches the cat's head, between the ears, before flipping the tag over to read the information on the back. "Indra's cat. Huh."

Bellamy scratches the cat's head some more, and the cat dozes off again.

"I didn't know Indra had a cat," Clarke says. "I didn't either."

Bellamy shrugs. "But if Gunner wants to put my kid to sleep, I'm certainly not going to throw him out into the scorching heat."

"Her," Clarke coughs.

"What?"

Clarke gestures to the cat's hindquarters. "She doesn't have any... you know."

Bellamy's face heats, and he looks away. "Oh. Oops. Sorry, madam," he whispers to the cat. He backs out of the room before he can fuck anything else up, like his kid's nap. "How about that nap, then?"

"I thought we were going to celebrate," Clarke protests. Bellamy gives her a melodramatic sigh. "Work, work, work."

(Well, it's not that much work, but they definitely regret not leaving enough time for a nice cool shower before Aurelia wakes up.)


	49. Splatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke works on Quinley's murals.

Clarke sways her hips while she fills in yet another banana. She's got some jazz going on her little portable speakers, to get her in the mood, and right now Louis Armstrong is singing about the wonderful world Clarke's busy painting all over Quinley's bedroom walls.

Clarke had come up with over a dozen mural ideas, and after two days of looking through them, Monroe had asked Clarke to paint all of them. It was going to take a little longer, but there were large expanses of color that would go faster than the little details like bananas and giraffe spots.

The front door of the apartment slammed shut, and Clarke was fully expecting Murphy to poke his head in and check on her, since it was about that time of day. But when she turned to wave, she waved at Monroe.

"Oh. Hey. I thought you were Murphy."

"He's with Quin," she says. "Do you need any help?"

Clarke looks around at the walls, which were still very white. "How good are you at coloring in the lines?"

"I think I can handle it."

Clarke picks up a paintbrush and a little can of sky-blue paint. She swipes a dab of paint on a few big open sections of wall. "Just paint until you reach a line," she tells Monroe.

Monroe nods, takes the can and the brush, and starts painting. They listen to light jazz in silence until Clarke asks, "How's Quinley?"

"She's good," Monroe says, but she sounds sad. Clarke hears a loud sniffle. "I still haven't gotten to hold her."

Clarke looks over at Monroe, and sees her standing with the brush in mid-air, dripping blue paint on the drop-cloth and Monroe's bare feet. "It's not forever," Clarke reminds her.

"I know it's not," Monroe says, and the frost in her voice is echoed in the way she slaps the brush against the wall and brushes it every which way. " _He_ got to hold her," she grumbles. "He got to hold her and talk to her and touch her without her being all hooked up to fucking machines everywhere." The blue paint is going on the wall at a record pace, but Clarke's a little worried Monroe's not going to see the lines and just paint right over them.

"Hey, you got to grow her."

"Yeah, and I fucked it up." She wipes a hand across her face and leaves a blue smear under her eyes. "How am I supposed to be a mom when I can't—" Monroe laughs morosely. "I can't even follow simple fucking instructions." She points to the wall.

"It's fine. I can sketch it back in." Clarke switches colors and starts dabbing little black eyes on the jungle animals. Monroe goes back to painting, too, calmer now that she's aired some of her anger. "You're a great mom," Clarke tells Monroe. "You're involved, and you love Quin, and she's probably the luckiest kid on the planet to have you and Murphy to dote on her. If she isn't the most spoiled child ever, I'll eat my hat."

Monroe shakes her head. "No, I'm pretty sure Ellie's got Quin beat by a mile. She's got you and Bellamy for parents."

Clarke almost paints an extra eye on the elephant in her surprise. "I'm not a mom," Clarke says.

"You are, though." Monroe's stopped painting and is looking at Clarke. "I mean, yeah, you didn't actually, like, give birth to her or whatever, but you're still her mom. You do all the mom things with her, and you have for her whole life."

Clarke shakes her head. "I love her, but Bellamy and I, we're not—I mean, it's not like that."

Monroe snorts and goes back to painting. "It doesn't matter. You're still her mom, and if you don't believe me, just wait. One of these days that kid's going to call you 'mom'." They paint in silence for another song, and then Monroe adds, "And, for the record, you and Bellamy are _so_  like that."

"We are not! We're neighbors, and he has a cute kid."

"You're a wedding short of married, even if you guys managed to skip the fun part."

Clarke laughs. "The fun part? You mean the part where you scream at each other and slam doors and then slam each other into doors?"

"Hey! John and I have definitely dialed that shit back, like, a thousand percent. I don't want Quin to have parents who look like they're fighting all the time."

Clarke points her paintbrush at Monroe. "Ha! That! That right there! You're changing to make room for Quin, which is basically the hallmark of a great parent. You just want what's best for Quin."

Monroe contemplates the paintbrush in her hand, and then shrugs. "Yeah, I guess so." She paints a while longer, and Clarke moves on to the little airplane. After another hour or so of painting, the door slams again, and Monroe calls, "Hey! Come in here!"

Murphy appears in the doorway, keys still in his hand. "I haven't even been home for five seconds. What could you possibly want?"

"Name moms who live in this building," Monroe says.

"The fuck?"

Monroe rolls her eyes. "Seriously. I'm trying to prove a point here."

Murphy sighs. "Well, there's you, and Clarke, and I'm pretty sure Mrs. Sinclair has kids. Why?"

Monroe gives Clarke a pointed look and Clarke feels her face turn the same color as the little red airplane. "I'm not her mom," she mutters.

Murphy laughs loudly. "You just keep telling yourself that."


	50. Shitstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinley gets some quality time with her parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *fanfare*
> 
> holy shit it's the 50th chapter of this monster.  
> those of you waiting for more of whatever character, it's coming. this is the last major chapter of the murphy-monroe family arc, so i can start getting into the two-years-old arc and [redacted] family arc and also the arc where —TRUNCATED—
> 
> whoops. looks like i tried to give you guys too many spoilers.  
> and without further ado...

Every time she's visited her daughter, Katie has had to be content with sticking her hand through that godawful little hole and letting Quinley hold onto her finger. John doesn't understand; _he_ got to hold her, and _he_ didn't spend half a year attached to her.

So when they're sitting with Quin and waiting, and the nurse comes over with a smile on her face, Katie gets a little nervous. "Doc says she's ready to spend some time outside the incubator," the nurse says, and Katie's going to throw up, she really is.

She's especially nervous to try the kangaroo thing the nurse is talking about, but the way Quinley's head fits between her breasts, and the way she feels against Katie's skin—Katie wouldn't have it any other way. "Hi, baby," she says. "God, you're so small, but you're so big, too. I just want to take you home. Clarke's finishing your room, and Daddy's gonna put all the furniture back in, and it's going to be awesome." Katie rubs Quin's cheek with a finger, and she turns her head toward it. "Hungry _again_? You're so like your dad."

"Hey!" John protests. "Don't listen to your mom. She'll tell you all kinds of lies about me."

Katie snorts. "Always listen to your mom, Quinley. And your dad. Except when he says not to listen to your mom, because that's terrible advice, and he knows it."

"Well, don't listen to your mom when she says bad things about me."

Katie rolls her eyes, but John puts his hand in her free one, the one that's not holding Quin against her. He scoots his chair up against hers and lays his head on her shoulder, and Katie kisses the top of his head, even though his hair is all dirty from moving boxes at work all day.

"Always listen to your mom, Quinley Ray, because she loves you. Probably more than she loves me."

"Don't say that," Katie snaps. "I love you both."

When he looks up at her, John has a wicked smirk on his face, and Katie knows he's just saying things to rile her up. "It's a damn good thing you don't have to choose, because I'd get the short end of the stick on that one."

"I don't want to choose," Katie says. "Ever."

It's not the first time they've talked about The Future (or talked around it, anyway), but it's the first time they've talked about it since Quin was born. John puts a hand over the one holding Quin, and buries his face in Katie's bare skin. "I fucking love you," he mutters.

Katie pulls her hand away from his so she can flick him on the chin, the only part of his face she can reach. "Don't swear in front of the baby."

"I had a point to make," he argues. "Are you gonna let me finish, or should I just stop now so I can forget about it for a few more weeks?"

Katie looks down at Quin, napping quietly against Katie's chest. "Don't let me stop you."

John snorts like she's made a joke. "As I was saying, I fucking love you, and Quin, and I don't think that's going to change any time soon."

"And?" Katie knows what's coming, because they've talked around it for quite a while, but she wants him to say it, because he's such a dumb boy sometimes, even though he's got a kid of his own.

"That was kind of it. I mean, I guess I could make up something else, if you want."

Katie rolls her eyes and focuses her attention on the sleeping baby on her chest. "Sure."

"Now you're mad. Seriously, I can't keep up."

"I'm not mad, John."

"You only use my name when you're mad."

"I'm not mad." It feels incomplete without his name, because she _is_ mad—she's madly in love with him, and Quin, and their stupid little shitstorm of a family. "Okay, I am mad, because there's this thing you keep implying and not saying and the more you talk around it the more I think..." She shakes her head. "I don't know. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid. What is it?"

Katie shakes her head and strokes Quin's feathery hair.

John slides off the chair and catches himself on one knee, holding her free hand as he looks at her with all the pleading seriousness in his entire being. "Katie, I can't fix it if you don't tell me."

She laughs, even as she's trying not to bathe her poor child in her tears. "You're an idiot."

"I'm gonna need you to be more specific."

"I mean, look at you. Down on one knee and you don't even know it."

He looks down at his one knee. "Oh." He frowns. " _That's_ what this is about?" He laughs. "Shit, Katie, if I'd known that's what you wanted, I'd have asked you months ago." He squeezes the hand he's holding.

"Well, don't ask me now, because I'm not wearing a shirt and I don't want to tell Quin that her dad proposed to me while I was shirtless."

John gets up into his chair again and the nurse comes to put Quin back in the incubator. They stay with Quin a little longer, and Katie reads _Goodnight Moon_ before they leave.

(John tries the proposing thing again later, and Katie just decides they're going to have to make up a better story, one where she isn't shirtless.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahaha and i bet you thought this was going to be just about Quin


	51. Candy Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven teaches Aurelia a valuable lesson.

Clarke's playing a seventh game of Candy Land with Aurelia when Raven barges into her apartment.

"Hide me," she whispers.

"What?"

Raven has a stupid grin on her face as she dives behind Clarke's couch. Aurelia, distracted from Candy Land by Raven's sudden arrival, goes to hide behind the couch, too. She peeks out and looks at Clarke, and giggles madly.

"Remind me why you're hiding behind my couch, Raven?"

"Shh!"

"Yeah, sss!"

Clarke hears Raven laugh, and then Aurelia starts squealing, and when Clarke gets up and looks behind the couch, Raven's holding Aurelia with one arm and tickling her with the other.

That's when Wick knocks on the door and swings it open. "Raven..." he calls. "Come on. I know you're back there."

Aurelia's still giggling, but Clarke can feel the tension snap between the two of them. Raven gets up from behind the couch, carrying Aurelia and a super fake smile with her. "Who's here, Ellie?"

"Yick!" Aurelia squeaks, clapping her hands. "Hi!"

Wick rolls his eyes. "Are you really going to hold this against me? I was making a _joke_ , Ray!"

Clarke's still trying to figure out what's going on. She knows Raven and Wick have been having some issues lately, but Raven won't tell her what it's about, and she's a bit concerned.

"That's the problem, Kyle. You're always joking about it, and I'm starting to think you're serious!"

"Is that so bad?" Wick shrugs, and Clarke's only seen that shrug a thousand times on Bellamy, the one that's accompanied by a guilty _you caught me_ face and, sometimes, a toe-scuffing for good measure. Wick stuffs his hands in his pockets. "You can't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Of course I have," Raven snaps. "But I told you, I'm not doing it."

Wick groans and leans back, like a whole-body eye-roll. "I'm not asking you to!" He sighs and shakes his head, and glances at Clarke for a moment. "Can we not discuss this here?"

"There's nothing to discuss," Raven says, and carries Aurelia back to the couch, where Aurelia uses her magic powers of being almost two to add Raven to the game of Candy Land. Wick pulls out his phone, taps out a message, and Raven rolls her eyes when her phone goes off. She reads the message, and sticks her phone back in her pocket. "I'm not talking to you," she says, drawing a Candy Land card and moving her gamepiece. "Not right now."

Clarke still has no idea what's going on, but Wick seems pleased when he apologizes to Clarke and leaves. "Raven, seriously, what's going on?"

Raven just rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "He's just being stupid." She looks at the little girl in her lap. "Boys are stupid. Remember that, Ellie. Boys. Are. Stupid. Also, I think it's your turn."

Clarke tries to pry the information out of Raven, but Aurelia's too good a distraction and Raven's too good at evasion, so she gives up and loses yet another game of Candy Land to a child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what are they arguing about? who knows? not i!
> 
> (just kidding. i do know, obviously.)


	52. Oh, Sister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The empty sixth-floor apartment finally has a tenant.

The party is Maya and Harper's idea, because Monroe didn't have a baby shower. Clarke convinces them to wait until the weekend after Quin comes home to have the party, to give them time to settle in at home. All it really does, though, is give pretty much everyone time to go by and see the baby, and by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the party's just an excuse for the building to gather on the fifth floor, exchange gossip, and coo over the newest tenant again.

Bellamy changes into jeans and a t-shirt the second he gets home from work, because Clarke and Aurelia are already almost out the door. "Did you get the gift?" he calls as he digs around for the softest shirt he owns.

"I already took it up there," Clarke calls back.

"Have you seen my shirt?" he shouts, hoping she isn't out the door already.

She pokes her head into his room. "There's a whole basket of them right there."

"No, the gray one. You know, with the thing on the sleeve."

"You mean the soft one?"

"Yeah."

She bites her lip sheepishly. "I wore it to bed last night. And the night before. It's in the wash."

He heaves a sigh and digs out the next-best shirt, a blue one that's still soft, but not quite as much as the gray one. "Now I know why you're always asking to do my laundry," he teases.

He follows her and Aurelia up the stairs to the fifth floor. Octavia's coming down from the sixth floor, Lincoln close behind her. "O?" he asks.

"Oh, hey, Bell. I was going to come down and find you."

"I didn't know you were here."

"Yeah, well, I am. I, uh, I'm moving in up there," she says. "Into 6B."

"Oh." He'd known somewhere in his mind that she and Lincoln were together, but he didn't talk to her much, and he didn't know how serious they were. Apparently, though, they were serious enough to live in the same building. "You should come by sometime when I don't need you to babysit," he says. "You know, tell me about him." Bellamy nods to Lincoln.

"I don't need you to vet my boyfriends, Bellamy" Octavia says tersely.

"That's not what I meant," Bellamy defends. "I don't know what happened, O, but I'm still sorry. I just want to get to know him." Bellamy arches an eyebrow. "Especially if he's planning on being my brother-in-law one of these days."

"We'll see," Octavia says. "But speaking of in-laws, how's your neighbor Clarke?"

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "We're not married, O."

Octavia snorts. "Are you sure about that? "

Bellamy wants to ask her what the hell she's talking about, but she just pushes past him and goes to talk to Emori and some of the other girls. He won't get another word out of her for the rest of the party, so he goes to talk to Lincoln instead, who's carrying what looks like a pile of fur and looking a little lost. "Are you looking for Monroe?"

Lincoln nods.

"She's probably..." Bellamy looks around and sees Murphy standing outside his apartment with Quin, talking to Wick. "In there," he says, pointing to Emori's open door. He can hear Clarke's laugh, and some others, too.

Lincoln looks wary of walking into a crowd of women, so Bellamy leads the way, and pretends it's because he's looking for Clarke. Aurelia's in Emori's kitchen, too, hugging like a starfish onto Maya's back. "Daddy!" Aurelia squeals. "Hossy!"

Maya bounces Aurelia, and Bellamy smiles. "Very nice horse-riding, little princess."

Lincoln sets the gift on the counter. "From Octavia and I. She says babies like soft blankets." He scratches the back of his head awkwardly and glances at Octavia.

Monroe picks it up and unfolds it and, sure enough, it's the fuzziest, softest blanket. It looks like faux fur, striped and mottled like a tabby cat. "Oh, my god, that's the softest shit I've ever touched in my life. And I've touched baby butt." The other girls laugh, and Bellamy covers up his smirk with his hand. "Wow. Thank you. Hey, Murphy!" Monroe shouts, and he appears in the doorway, Quin tucked into his elbow.

"You rang?"

"Come here."

He saunters over to the counter. "The fuck is that?"

Monroe punches his free arm. "It's a gift from Lincoln and Octavia."

"Yeah, but what is it?"

"It's a blanket, idiot." Monroe wraps Quin in it, swaddling her so that only her face and one of her hands is free. Her little fingers work at the edge of the blanket, and Monroe smiles. "Well, she's sold."

Lincoln looks relieved that the gift went over so well, but he also wastes no time getting the hell out of that kitchen. Murphy and Monroe start to bicker over whose turn it is to show off the baby (which ultimately ends in Murphy rolling his eyes and kissing both of his girls on his way out of the kitchen), and Bellamy isn't about to be the only man left in a room full of women.

Later, Bellamy finds his daughter in a contest with Lincoln for best war cry, and Octavia across the room, watching. "She likes him," Bellamy says.

"She likes everybody."

"That's pretty true."

"She gets it from her mom."

Bellamy snorts. "Funny. But I'm pretty sure Amber's the opposite of friendly."

"I wasn't talking about Amber," Octavia tells him, and she nods to the head of blond hair who's busy gurgling at the baby.

"Clarke's not—I mean, we're not—"

"Terribly intelligent? Yeah, I'm getting that."

He does his best to look offended, but she just gives him a saucy smile and goes to join her niece in out-roaring Lincoln. She's going to be insufferable about Clarke, but Bellamy's actually kind of glad Octavia's living in his building, even if it is mostly thanks to her formidable, stoic boyfriend.


	53. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tenants of 100 Ark Street celebrate their newest resident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I definitely didn't almost forget to post a chapter of this story today... *shifty eyes*

Raven's only going because Clarke will kill her if she doesn't. She's already given her baby gift to Monroe and Murphy: a modular mobile for Quin that she designed herself. She really doesn't want to go, because she's seen the baby already and the baby's cute and she doesn't need Kyle to remind her how cute babies are and she _really_ doesn't want to spend two hours reminding _him_ how much work babies are.

It's a moot point anyway, because Raven's so not going to suffer through a self-inflicted medical condition that almost killed her own mother. She's not really opposed to babies or kids; she's just opposed to _having_ them.

Kyle's already there when she gets to the fifth floor. Emori, the new neighbor in Monroe's old apartment, is one of Maya's old friends from high school, and is hosting the majority of the party so Murphy and Monroe don't have to. Kyle's on the landing, talking to Murphy, who's holding Quin like he's never going to let go.

Raven finds Monroe standing around her old counter with Emori and Maya and Harper. "I cried," Monroe is saying. "He made fun of me for _days_."

Emori laughs. "That's so mean! How do you stand it?"

Monroe just shrugs. "I don't know. I love him. And it's not like it's a one-way street. I'm just as much of an asshole as he is." Monroe gives Raven a nod. "Hey. Quin loves her mobile."

"Well, I wasn't worried she'd hate it," Raven says. "But I'm glad she likes it."

"Is Wick here?" Monroe asks.

Raven shrugs. "Yeah."

"Are you still hiding from him?" Maya asks.

"I'm not _hiding_ ," Raven argues. "He's just insufferable is all."

"Well, don't hide behind the counter," Harper says. "Emori says it bites."

"I didn't say that! I said I've hit my head on it more times than I can count."

Raven hears the squeal of a toddler and leaves Harper and Emori and the others to discussing the dangers of countertops and corners. Clarke's come up with Aurelia; Bellamy comes up shortly after. There are enough people at the party now for Aurelia to not feel too overshadowed by the baby, especially since she's very interested in the baby.

Kyle finds her before she can escape. "Are you still not talking to me?" he asks.

Raven doesn't answer. She's definitely not talking to him.

"Oh, come on. _Please_?"

Okay, so maybe she hasn't really told him why she doesn't want a kid, and maybe she doesn't want to even talk about kids when their relationship isn't even all that serious. But she's not talking to him at all until he backs the hell off.

He puts his hands on her shoulders and when she glares up at him, he leans his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry, okay? I don't know why you're so against it, but if that's the case, I'll be okay with just borrowing other people's kids."

Raven shrugs him off. "I don't want to talk about it right now." She doesn't want to talk about it, period, but especially not in front of the entire building.

"You've been saying that for weeks!" he calls after her.

He catches up to her when she's on the fourth-floor landing.

"Raven, come on. Talk to me."

"No." She crosses her arms. "I don't even know why we're talking about this."

"We're _not_ talking about this!" he exclaims. "We're not talking about it because every time I bring it up you avoid me for days."

"Because I don't want to talk about it! There's nothing to talk about! I'm not going through that. Ever. Period. Full stop. End of story."

"I'm not asking you to go through anything." He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "All I'm saying is that one day I'd like to be a dad, and you'd be a killer mom. But I'm not set on it, and definitely not right this second."

"Well, you're gonna have to get used to other people's kids," she tells him. "Because I'm _not_ having a baby."

Kyle sighs. "I'm sorry, okay? Can we go back to the party?"

She looks at him, and he looks so apologetic that she just can't help herself. "Fine," she says dramatically.

(She sees him later, holding baby Quin and grinning, and if her heart jumps right out of her chest, it's just because he _would_ be a killer dad, if only she didn't have a family history of dying in childbirth.)


	54. Impression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has her usual birthday dinner with her mother.

Aurelia holds Clarke's hand when they walk up to the Griffin house, because she refuses to touch Bellamy's sweaty ones. Clarke takes his hand, though, sweaty as it is, and nods for him to ring the doorbell. "You don't have to be nervous, Bellamy. She'll like you."

Bellamy shifts the diaper bag on his shoulder. "She didn't like me at the Christmas party."

"She didn't know you at the Christmas party." Clarke lifts the hand she's holding and points at the doorbell.

Bellamy makes a face and jabs the doorbell button. Abby is smiling when she opens the door, and Aurelia hides shyly behind Clarke's leg. "Come in," Abby says.

In the entryway, Clarke lets go of Bellamy's hand so she can hug her mother, but Aurelia's got both arms wrapped around Clarke's thigh. "Whoops. Looks like I picked up an urchin." She pries Aurelia off her leg and lifts her onto her hip. "Can you say hi?"

"Hi," Aurelia says quietly, and Clarke can see the gears turning behind her mother's smile.

"That's my mom," Clarke tells her. "Her name is Abby."

"Abby?"

Clarke laughs. "Yeah, her name's Abby. Can you tell her your name?"

"Eh-ee!"

Clarke can pretty much hear Bellamy rolling his eyes behind her back. "That's right," Clarke says, kissing Aurelia's curls.

"Mom?" Aurelia asks, pointing to Abby.

"Yep, that's my mom."

She puts a finger on Clarke's nose. "Mom?"

"Yeah, she's my mom."

"No, mine!"

"No, she's _my_ mom, silly!"

Aurelia picks that moment to vent her frustration by smacking Clarke on the shoulder, an angry scowl on her face. "No! Mine mom!"

"Aurelia Daphne," Clarke scolds, holding Aurelia's hand in hers. "Is it nice to hit others?"

Aurelia looks apologetic immediately. "Sorry," she mumbles.

Clarke kisses her fingers, and Aurelia wriggles out of her grasp to go attack Bellamy's legs. "Sorry about that," she tells her mother.

Abby gives Clarke a warm smile. "She'll grow out of it," Abby says. "You used to pull my hair."

Clarke feels her face heat. "Mom, please. Can we not do the embarrassing baby stories?"

"Don't worry," Abby says. "I won't tell any stories where you're naked."

"Mother!"

It's a lie, though, because not fifteen minutes later, Abby's telling a story about toddler Clarke in which toddler Clarke is naked for at least half of it. Bellamy's laughing, and Aurelia's focused on making as much of a mess as possible of her roasted squash. He groans when he sees how much squash she has in her hair, because it means she's going to need a bath before bedtime.

Clarke gives him a smirk. "If you don't want to bathe her, you can put her to bed."

Bellamy looks horrified; lately, Aurelia's been a terror to put to bed unless Clarke's around. "I will _happily_ wash and dry her if it means I don't have to put her away."

"You can bathe her here if you like," Abby says.

"Oh, no, that's okay," Bellamy says.

Clarke glances at the clock on the wall. It's almost six-thirty already. There's no way they're getting Aurelia to bed anywhere near her bedtime. "That might be a good idea, actually," she tells Bellamy. "She's going to be late to bed as it is."

Bellamy looks around and finds the clock. "Oh. Didn't know it was that late." He puts his fork down and looks at Aurelia, who is playing with her food and not eating any of it. "Are you done eating?" he asks, and she nods, rubbing her fingers through her mashed-up squash. "You wanna go swimming?"

Aurelia looks up at him.

"Don't lie to her, Bellamy!"

"I'm not lying to her. I can guarantee your mom's guest bath is way bigger than my kitchen sink." He strips off Aurelia's shirt, which has food all down the front, and picks her up, blowing a raspberry into her chest. "Which way?" he asks over Aurelia's giggles.

"Down the hall and to the left," Clarke says. "There should be towels under the sink."

Bellamy heads off to wash the food out of Aurelia's hair, and as soon as he's gone, Abby says, "You know, when I saw you two at the Christmas party, I didn't realize how involved you were." She pushes her chair back and starts gathering up dishes.

Clarke gets up and helps, carting platters and plates into the kitchen. "We're not that involved," she says defensively.

"I've got eyes, Clarke." Abby opens the dishwasher and starts rinsing the dishes and stacking them in the bottom rack. "You could have at least told me I was a grandmother."

"Mom, no! I'm not her mom! I mean, she's not my kid. She's not. She's Bellamy's. I _told_ you. Aurelia's mom dropped her in Bellamy's lap and bounced."

Abby arches an eyebrow at Clarke. "I know what I saw, Clarke."

"Mo-om," Clarke groans, snapping a lid on the casserole dish. Clarke goes to put the dirty cups in the top rack, and sees two wine glasses lined up next to a single coffee cup. "Ooh, who came over for wine and didn't stay the night?" she asks, and she fully expects her mother to shrug it off and say it was Aunt Cece.

Clarke does not expect the flush that creeps up her mother's neck, or the abrupt way Abby turns back to the sink. "Nobody," Abby lies.

"Sure, Mom. And does this nobody have, say, two legs and a nice smile?"

Abby's shoulders tense, and Clarke just _knew_ something was up. Her mother's been unusually cheerful all day, even when Clarke called to say they'd be late because Bellamy got stuck at work. "This nobody is none of your business, young lady."

Clarke throws up her hands. "Okay, okay."

"So what's this about a kitchen sink?" Abby asks.

"Oh. Uh, nothing much. Bellamy's bathtub doesn't seal, so we either have to use mine or bathe Aurelia in the sink. She's small, though."

"Shouldn't your building manager have someone to fix that?"

Clarke shrugs. "Bellamy put in a work order when the plug broke, but it's not like it's a safety hazard or anything."

Abby frowns. "He shouldn't have to bathe her in the sink."

"She has fun." Clarke hears a squeal from down the hallway, and Bellamy appears with Aurelia in the clean pajamas they keep in the diaper bag. "Speaking of fun." Bellamy comes into the kitchen and hands Aurelia off to Clarke. "Look who's all squeaky clean! Did you have a good bath?"

Aurelia waves her hands in the air. "'Wimmin'!"

"Oh, you went swimming, did you?"

"An' a 'plash!" She throws her hands in the air and giggles. "Daddy ah wet!"

Sure enough, Bellamy's shirt is soaked on the front. "Well, I think it's time to go home," Clarke says. "Don't you?"

Aurelia makes a pouty face, the one she always makes before she bursts into tears. Clarke's about to launch into super-distractor mode when her mother swoops in, carries Aurelia to the living room, and flicks on the backyard lights. "You see that?" Abby asks. "That's my swimming pool, and you can come back another day and swim in it. Do you want to do that?"

"'Wimmin'?"

Abby nods. "Do you want to do that?"

Aurelia nods. "I 'unna 'wimmin'!"

"Yeah, but not today. Another day, okay?"

"Nunner one?"

Abby nods. "Yep."

Aurelia looks back at Clarke and Bellamy, and points out at the pool. "Daddy, I 'unna 'wimmin'!"

Bellamy laughs. "I heard. Are you ready to go home and go night-night?"

Aurelia looks at Bellamy, and then slowly puts her arms around Abby's neck so her face is hidden.

"Clarke, have you seen Aurelia?" Bellamy asks.

"No, but I guess if we don't find her, we'll have to go home without her, and Babbo will probably cry all night." Clarke heaves an extra-dramatic sigh, and Aurelia's head pops right up, because there's no way she's going to go without her favorite stuffed animal.

"Babbo!" Aurelia wriggles, trying to escape Abby's grip, but when she's on the floor, she trips over her own feet and goes face-first into the carpet. Any other time of day, she'd get up and keep on going, but it's past her bedtime, and she's had a long and exciting day. Clarke knows the waterworks are coming even before the first sharp inhale, and she can see Bellamy gearing up for a long night. Clarke scoops Aurelia up and cradles her like a baby. "Hey, you're fine. You just tripped, 'cause you're tired and your body wants to go night-night."

Aurelia's sobs die down a bit, but it really is late, so Clarke takes Aurelia and Bellamy takes the diaper bag, and Aurelia makes a fuss about everything until halfway home when she just knocks out in her carseat. Then it's Bellamy's turn to take Aurelia, and Clarke's to take the diaper bag, and they head upstairs and get Aurelia into bed without any more fussing.

Bellamy's in sweats when Clarke comes back from putting her own pajamas on. "Happy birthday to _me_ ," she says, dragging her fingernails lightly down his bare torso."

Bellamy laughs. "Hey, hey. Don't go skipping stuff, princess." He reaches in his pocket and hands her a little cardboard box with a bow on top. "I probably should have given this to you a while ago, but..." He shrugs.

Clarke takes it and plucks the top off to reveal a pink house key with a yellow crown on the top.

"A crown for the princess," he says.

"You're giving me a key?"

He shrugs. "I don't keep a spare in the fuse box, remember?"

"I know, but—" It's a little overwhelming, actually, because she knows how difficult it is for him to really trust people, especially where his home and his daughter are involved. She puts the lid back on the box and kisses him. "I love it. And you impressed my mom. It's been a pretty good birthday, I think."

"And," he says, pulling her closer and pushing her hair away from her ear so he can murmur into it, "it's not over yet."

Clarke shivers and drops the little box on the kitchen counter. "Amendment," she says, tracing his midline with a finger. "Best birthday _ever_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, i know, there was no cake, but there was plenty of other sugary sweet fluffy goodness :)  
> besides, who wants to give an almost-two-year-old cake after her bedtime? not i.


	55. French Films

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven asks Clarke how the birthday evening went.

Clarke's been stretched out on the couch for barely two minutes after an excruciatingly long day on an on-location project when Raven barges in with Chinese takeout and a six-pack of German beer.

"Is it French film night already?" Clarke jokes.

Raven snorts. "No. I just need to drown myself in chow mein and soy sauce. How was dinner with your mom?"

"Pretty good." Clarke shrugs. "Ellie made a mess and now has my mother wrapped around her little finger. Bellamy gave me a key to his apartment. My mom's seeing someone and won't tell me who."

"It's Kane," Raven says, jamming two beers into the ice bucket in Clarke's freezer. "I saw her on the landing a couple of days ago. They were making the most revolting heart eyes at each other. I almost gagged."

"A couple of _days_ ago? And you didn't think to at least _text_ me?"

Raven throws up her hands. "I've been a little busy, okay? Everyone in this damn building's obsessed with Ellie or Quin, or both." She flops down next to Clarke and passes her a carton of chow mein and a pair of chopsticks.

Clarke nudges Raven's knee with her own. "It's okay, you know. You don't have to like kids. They can get really annoying and messy and stupid."

"That's not it," Raven mutters into her noodles. "He's just been getting really serious lately—and not just about the kid thing."

"Oh." Clarke knows Raven isn't really much for serious. "He never struck me as the serious type. More of a clown, really."

Raven rolls her eyes. "No, I mean he's been talking about serious stuff, like how he's thinking about whether or not to take the promotion the firm's going to offer him, because it means he's going to get paid more but it also won't be the job he really loves."

"Well, he should do what he wants to do, probably."

"That's what I said, but then he said something about—about how he couldn't support anyone else on his current salary, but he could if he got the promotion and, like, I'm not giving up my _job_."

"I don't think that's what he means," Clarke says.

"I know, okay? But the fact that he's thinking about it, I just—I don't know."

"He's getting serious, and you don't want to?" Clarke guesses.

Raven looks up from her noodles. "No. That's the problem. He's getting serious, and I don't even mind."

"Ra-ven," Clarke sings, dragging out the vowels.

"I said I didn't mind. I didn't say I liked it. Don't get ahead of yourself, turbo."

"I'll do my best." Clarke swipes her chopsticks in an X in the air. "Cross my heart."

Raven nudges Clarke with her knee. "So did you say Bellamy gave you a _key_ for your birthday?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've been spoiling y'all and now I'm being stingy with my wordcount, but really it's because some days are busy and occasionally these chapters are actual flash fiction like they're SUPPOSED to be.


	56. War Paint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia substitutes for Clarke as Saturday sitter.

According to Bellamy, it's a rare Saturday that he and Clarke both have to work, especially now that she's freelancing, but Octavia's glad for it, because it means she gets to steal her niece away for a few hours.

Or, at least, she was glad for it when Bellamy called her and asked her to babysit. She agreed immediately, because she doesn't work Saturdays and she never gets enough time with Ellie, except she made the mistake of telling Lincoln she was babysitting, and now they're on a sheet of plastic on her kitchen floor making "art" out of raw macaroni and overcooked vegetables and practicing their war cries.

Lincoln's in a pair of shorts, and Ellie's in a diaper, and when she tries to color in Lincoln's tattoos with tomato paste, he puts some of the spinach purée on his finger, gives her some war paint, and hands her a shiny pot lid so she can see her face.

Ellie picks up a wooden spoon and waves it in the air, yelling at the top of her lungs.

"How am I supposed to put her down for a nap when you're covering her in food?" Octavia asks, leaning over the counter.

Lincoln looks up at her, a sweet puppy-dog smile on his face, the one he reserves just for her.

"Don't give me that face. She needs a nap."

"She's fine, Octavia. When she's tired, she'll go to sleep herself."

"That's not how this works."

Lincoln shrugs. "That's what Nyko does with his kids." He glues more macaroni bits to the sculpture on the floor with peanut butter.

"Ellie isn't one of Nyko's kids. She needs a nap."

Lincoln looks to Ellie, who's gone back to painting a cookie sheet with peanut butter and spinach. "What do you think, little warrior? Is it naptime?"

Ellie doesn't even look up. "No nap!"

Lincoln shrugs. "See?"

Octavia groans and drops her head onto the counter. She hears Lincoln laugh, and when she looks up, he's already started cleaning up their incredibly messy art session. Octavia goes to the bathroom to get a warm washcloth to wipe Ellie down with, and when she comes back, Lincoln and Ellie have got most of the mess cleaned up.

"No wass!" Ellie protests. "No!"

Octavia sits on the floor in front of her niece. "A warrior must be clean to fight in the land of dreams," she says. "Don't you want to go fight some dragons?"

"No!" Ellie protests. "No fining gagons! I 'anna paint!"

"We can paint again later," Octavia promises. "But first it's time for all of us to lay down and rest for a little bit."

"No ress! I 'anna _paint_!"

"Aurelia," Lincoln says in the low, serious rumble that quietly demands attention. "We are all going to lay down and take a nap. You, and me, and your aunt Octavia."

Ellie starts to whine, but Octavia wipes the drying food paste off anyway, changes Ellie's diaper, and carries her into the bedroom. By the time the three of them are snuggled together, Ellie's accepted that it's naptime, and she just babbles until she falls asleep between Octavia and Lincoln.

"Finally," Lincoln sighs, closing his eyes. He looks ready for a nap himself, and Octavia smirks. She traces the swirling ink lines on his chest and before long he's sleeping as soundly as Ellie.

Okay, so maybe it's incredibly hot how good he is with kids, and even though there's still a lot of things she wants to do before she even _thinks_ about having kids, at least she knows he'd be a superstar dad.

(She tells him as much later, after Ellie's gone home, right before she insists on cleaning the peanut butter off his face.)


	57. Trick or Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia dresses up for Halloween.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy is the king, Clarke is the queen, and Aurelia is the warrior princess who basically looks like a mini Lady Sif. In case anyone is wondering.

Bellamy doesn't think it's a good idea to take a not-yet-two-year-old child on a quest to collect a bucket full of sugar, but Clarke just reminds him that Octavia and Lincoln have already made her a costume, and it'll give them an excuse to go see Clarke's mother.

"I still don't think we need an excuse to visit your mom," Bellamy says when he parks the car at the end of the street. He gets out and tries to figure out where the hell his crown went while his queen frees their little warrior princess from her car seat.

"We probably don't, but sometimes it's nice to have one." She lifts Aurelia out of the car and sets her on the ground, handing her a little foam sword. "Plus, there'll be plenty of chocolate after this."

"I'm not feeding my daughter candy," Bellamy insists, taking Aurelia's hand. "You remember what happened the last time we did that."

Clarke snorts. "It's normal for her to get excited about candy. Besides, we're only going to a few houses."

They walk up to the first house, which has a cartoon ghost staked into the yard near the sidewalk, and some vaguely fall-themed decorations in the window. Aurelia waves her little sword—more like a dagger, really—at nothing in particular until they get to the porch.

Bellamy's carrying a knight's helmet, which Aurelia's supposed to use for a bucket. He trades her the sword for the helmet, and Clarke says, "Okay, you remember what to say?"

"Chicker chee!" Aurelia squeals, holding up the helmet.

"Yep, trick or treat." She nods to Aurelia, and Aurelia raps on the door with her open hand as Clarke steps back. An elderly woman answers the door with a smile and a fancy little crystal bowl full of candy.

"Oh, my! A royal family?"

"Hi!" Aurelia says.

"Why, hello there. Are you a knight?"

"No, I'm rorier!" Aurelia roars her little war cry.

Clarke hides a laugh with her hand. "Ellie, no, remember? It's Halloween, so we say...?"

Bellamy hopes Aurelia won't respond to that damn nickname that everyone's given her, because it's _not_ her name, but Aurelia looks back at Clarke, then holds out her helmet to the woman at the door. "Chicker chee!"

The lady smiles. "Happy Halloween, little one," she says, dropping a few pieces of candy into Aurelia's helmet.

"Can you say thank you, Ellie?" Clarke asks as Aurelia turns to scamper away.

Aurelia drops the helmet, which bounces and turns over, dropping Tootsie Rolls and Now Or Laters down the front steps. She runs up to the woman and throws her arms around her leg and squeaks, "Tank-oo!" The woman just pats her on the head and Aurelia runs back to Clarke, climbing as fast as she dares down the porch steps.

Bellamy picks up the spilled candy and puts it in his pocket, because the helmet thing is clearly not going to work out. They only have three more houses before the Griffin house, so they just stop at each one and practice saying "trick or treat" without taking any candy, which Bellamy is _very_  okay with.

When Abby's front door opens, Aurelia squeals, "Abby! I'm rorier!"

Clarke's mother smiles at Aurelia. "You _are_ a warrior. I like your sword."

"Woos!" Aurelia exclaims, swinging her sword around. "I 'unna fining gagons!"

"Are you really? Well, maybe you should come inside first." Abby nods to Bellamy and Clarke, and then takes Aurelia into the kitchen, saying, "Would you like a snack?"

Bellamy hears his daughter's excited squeal; Abby Griffin's snack game is surpassed only by Mrs. Sinclair's. He stops Clarke before they go inside so he can kiss her, grinning stupidly, just because his kid is having fun.

They get a little too into the kissing thing, and when Bellamy lets her go (well, she lets _him_ go), she takes off his crown and straightens it and his hair. "I told you trick or treating would be fun," she says.  "We should probably go inside, though. I don't want my mom at the mercy of an armed toddler. Ellie might get excited and accidentally cut off an arm." Clarke turns and walks inside, her dress and hair flowing behind her.

"Her _name_ is Aurelia," Bellamy sighs, but he follows Clarke in anyway, because what's a king without his queen?

(Utterly useless, he finds out, when Clarke goes to her apartment because she's got a project to get to tomorrow, and he cannot for the life of him get Aurelia to shut up about trick-or-treating long enough to go to sleep.)


	58. Side Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sinclair picks up a side project when work gets slow, and it gets him in trouble with the missus.

After thirty years of marriage, Joseph Sinclair is pretty good at knowing when he's in trouble, and why. Or, at least, he likes to think so, but he's been away from the apartment a lot in the last couple of weeks, so his initial guess is that Jane thinks he's working too much (it's happened before). Usually he can solve that one by delegating a few tasks to junior engineers instead of doing them himself, so he can go home earlier.

This project is different. Work has been slow, so he picked up a side project, which happened to be the brainchild of none other than Raven Reyes. Joseph's always admired Reyes both for her technical prowess and her ingenuity, and because, well, she's a good kid. So he spends a lot of time at work, in the drafting room, wracking his brains for a solution to this or that while Reyes bangs her head against the drawing board and hopes a solution falls out onto the desk.

Joseph runs a hand over his face. "I'm gonna call it a night," he says, even though they're stuck _again_ because an otherwise-brilliant solution they came up with a week ago is now logistically impossible.

Reyes nods. "Yeah. Let me know if your wife's cooking inspires any strokes of engineering genius."

Joseph grabs his briefcase on his way out and waves back at Reyes. "Tell Wick I said hi, if you see him."

"I will," she promises, but she's got that determined look on her face, and she probably won't see Wick today, or anyone else, for that matter.

Joseph is still turning the project's problems over in his head when he drops his keys and coat off at the door. "Jane, love?" he calls. "I'm home."

She doesn't respond, even though he can hear her in the kitchen.

"Jane?" He drops his briefcase by the couch and finds his wife in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and apron dusted with flour and sugar. There are cooling racks and baking sheets everywhere, and the kitchen is a mess. Jane loves to bake, he knows, but the kitchen is completely devoid of any evidence of actual food, which can only mean one thing.

He is in so much trouble, and he doesn't even know why.

She's pounding her fist into a big hunk of dough, her expression as blank as the sheet of unfrosted sugar cookies behind her. He takes a seat at the counter island and waits. He'd like to open the fridge and find himself a beer or possibly some Sprite, but he needs her to know he's listening to her and only her.

"Jane," he says quietly, when she's done splitting the dough and covering the bowls.

She starts cleaning flour off the counter. "How's your project?" she asks, and even though her tone is even all the way through, he can see the way her body stiffens at "project".

"It's going well," he says slowly. "I mean, as well as can be expected when the entire team consists of about two and a half people."

"Two and a half? Or just two?"

A modicum of understanding flickers in Joseph's mind, and then it's quickly replaced by disbelief and confusion. "Well, there are four people officially on the team, but Kyle's busy with his own project, and Atom's got almost no experience with this kind of stuff."

"Right. So do you and Raven work together a lot?" Her fingers tighten on the rag she's using to wipe down the counter, and she doesn't look at him.

"Is this about the project, or is this about something else?"

"Why don't you tell me? _Is_ this about the project?"

He is so lost, and he's trying to read the way she's standing and scrubbing at the counter and not looking at him and he hasn't been this deaf to her since before they were dating. He drops his head, staring at his shirt like his buttons are going to spell out the answer.

When he looks up at her, her knuckles are a furious white against the tranquil blue dishrag. There's nothing left to clean on the counter, but she keeps cleaning anyway.

"I don't know what this is about," he confesses. "I thought you were mad because I was working late all the time."

"Working? Really?"

She's telling him, he knows, practically screaming it in his face, but his Jane Translator is malfunctioning in a critical kind of way. The answer slaps him in the face like a rubber fish when she turns around to put a batch of cookies in the oven and he notices she's done her hair up and she's wearing a blouse instead of just a t-shirt.

He's absolutely _mortified_. "Wait, wait. Are you—is this about me and _Raven_?" he asks.

"Why not?" she shrugs, overplaying the nonchalance. "She's young, and bright, and pretty."

He's going to have a heart attack, he really is. He gets up and walks around the island so he can wrap his arms around her and untie her apron. "She's a _kid_ ," he says, tossing the apron onto the counter and wrapping both his arms around his wife's waist. "You are the love of my life, Jane Sinclair."

She doesn't respond to him in any way, except to cross her arms and wait.

"I don't know where you're getting this idea that I could possibly love anyone else, but if it bothers you that much, I'll quit the project."

"Love has little to do with it, Joseph."

She remains stalwartly unconvinced, so he uses the only persuasion tactic left to him. "I don't love anyone else, I don't want anyone else, I don't need anyone else," he says, and he leans into her the same way he did on their first date, on the day he proposed to her, on the day he married her, on the day she told him they were going to be parents, and every day in between. "Just you," he murmurs, and he kisses her like they're newlyweds, only he loves her more now than he did yesterday or any day before that.

His argument finally convinces her that he's hers, all hers; she uncrosses her arms and kisses him with the ferocity he remembers from their younger days. The years and decades have tempered much of her fierce, headstrong belligerence, but it still comes out in full force once in a while. She drags him out of the kitchen and into their bedroom, and he makes another very convincing argument about just what he thinks of her.

"Where did you even get the idea?" he asks when they're laying under the blankets, facing each other the way they do when they wake up at night and talk drowsily for half an hour or so.

She looks embarrassed now, just a little. "Sidney Roman's husband," she says. "Last year." She shrugs. "It's been almost thirty-five years. I wouldn't be terribly surprised if you got bored. I'm not as young as I used to be."

Joseph just takes her hand and laces his fingers in hers. "I'm no spring chicken, either, darling." He kisses her fingers, and then the smoke alarm goes off, and he can smell the half-forgotten odor of burning cookies.

He shuts the smoke alarm up while she turns the oven off and takes out the very well-done sugar cookies. "You made me burn the cookies," she complains.

"Shall I make it up to you?" he asks with a smirk.

She kisses him briefly. "You can buy dinner, and we'll call it even."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting this chapter/event since the beginning because I just love how stupid-crazy-in-love Sinclair is with his wife after thirty-plus years together. He's so crazy about Jane that it doesn't even occur to him that working long hours with a young, pretty, intelligent girl like Raven Reyes might make her jealous and I'm just going to go sit in a corner and have another emotion or two about the Sinclairs.


	59. The Vacuum Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Aurelia do some housecleaning to get ready for the annual Christmas party.

Clarke and Raven do the bulk of the planning for this year's Christmas party. The stockpile of "Christmas booze" gets collected into Raven's living room, and the decorations pile up on Clarke's kitchen table. Bellamy has to work the morning of the party, as usual, so Clarke gets to put her babysitting skills to the test and clean and prep while she corrals a rowdy, eager, excited two-year-old.

They start with the kitchen, and Ellie stands on a chair and rubs a rag over the counter island while Clarke sweeps. Ellie holds the dustpan, too, and she does an excellent job. The living room is trickier, because Ellie doesn't want to move her Legos off the coffee table or clean up her other toys, but Clarke reminds her that they can't have a Christmas party if there are toys laying around everywhere.

When they've finally gotten the living room cleaned up, Clarke gets out Bellamy's vacuum cleaner, which has been artfully redesigned as a dragon. Ellie screeches and runs to her toy bin to dig out the foam sword and the helmet from her Halloween costume. Before Clarke even has the vacuum cleaner plugged in, Ellie's got her sword out and her helmet on and is sounding her war cry at the top of her little lungs.

Ellie chases the vacuum dragon around the room, yelling and smacking it with her sword, and when Clarke gets to the end of the carpet, there's a huge theatrical death scene where the dragon dies and it and Clarke both fall to the floor. Ellie throws her sword at the dead dragon and climbs on top of Clarke, kissing and hugging her until she wakes up.

Clarke grins. "Oh, my goodness. You saved me from the dragon! Thank you so much!"

"Tank-oo gagon," Ellie says, poking Clarke's face. "Gagon again!"

Clarke laughs. "We'll do the dragon again later, okay? After naptime, when we go clean my house."

Ellie doesn't look too pleased. "No nap!"

"Yeah, nap. Do you want a snack first and then a nap, or do you want to have a nap first and snack later?"

"'Nack firs'!"

"Okay, snack first and then naptime." They have a snack, and then Ellie naps while Clarke finishes the dishes and the laundry and makes peanut butter and jelly for lunch, and when Ellie wakes up, they invite Raven for lunch.

"I heard a whole bunch of screaming earlier. Did you guys have some trouble with naptime?"

Clarke laughs. "No, we were vacuuming."

"How do you get vacuuming to sound like an apocalyptic-level tantrum?"

Clarke looks at Ellie. "Do you think we should show Miss Raven how to vacuum with the dragon?"

Ellie nods, so after lunch, Clarke drags Bellamy's vacuum cleaner over to her apartment and they re-enact the dragon fight, complete with dramatic death sequence, all to Raven's amusement.

"I might have to steal that idea," Raven says, and then she slaps a hand over her mouth.

Clarke stops dead in the middle of winding up the vacuum cleaner cord. "Raven Reyes, have you been keeping _secrets_?"

"No," Raven says quickly. "No. No, I'm not keeping secrets."

Clarke narrows her eyes at her best friend. "You'd tell me if you were pregnant, right?"

"Of course I'd tell you. But I'm not, and I won't be, for reasons previously discussed."

"I'm just double-checking." Clarke winds up the vacuum cleaner the rest of the way and sets it next to her front door. "But there's something else going on, isn't there?"

"Clarke, please," Raven says. Clarke doesn't hear Raven say _please_ much. "I'm not going to talk about it. Not yet. Trust me, when there's something to hear, you'll know."

Clarke looks sideways at Raven, and then she turns her attention back to Ellie, who's looking through the decorations. "So, kiddo, you wanna help me put up some Christmas or what?"

"Tristmas!" Ellie sings, pointing to a little sleigh with four reindeer at the front. "Sanna anna reimbeers?"

"Yep. Santa and the reindeer. Where should we put them?" Clarke asks.

(Clarke makes sure to tell everyone later exactly who was the creative director for the party, and everyone compliments the beaming toddler on her interior design skills.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clarke's position as "fearless leader" is about to get taken over by a little warrior princess. I debated for a hot second on whether to make Ellie afraid of the vacuum or not and then I just got this idea about Clarke dressing the vacuum up as a dragon and Ellie running around with her sword and basically just being totally fearless all the time.


	60. Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much Christmas, so little time...

Bellamy really doesn't like the idea of dragging Christmas out over two days, but both Aurora and Abby are insisting on having Christmas dinner, and Bellamy sure as hell can't host nine-plus adults and three kids in his little apartment, so they're doing Christmas twice: Christmas Eve at Abby's, and Christmas evening with Bellamy's mom.

Bellamy tries not to be nervous as all hell, he really does, but there are four cars parked at Abby's house in addition to her silver hybrid. Clarke looks like she's studying every one of them, matching them to family and friends. "Huh," she says when Bellamy parks, staring at the little old Honda parked in front of them. She gets out and unbuckles Aurelia.

"Huh what?" Bellamy asks, slinging the diaper bag over his shoulder.

Clarke points to the car beyond the Honda. "Kane's here."

Aurelia squeals excitedly and yanks on Clarke's dress. "I 'anna go!"

"Alright, alright, we're going. You coming, Dad?" Clarke asks.

Bellamy nods. "Let's do this," he mutters. Aurelia leads the way; she's been chomping at the bit all day, wanting to go see Abby. "You didn't tell me there were going to be other people."

Clarke shrugs. "It's Christmas, Bellamy. Besides, it's just my aunt Cece and her kids. And a couple of grandkids."

"A couple" of grandkids turns out to be five—six, counting Aurelia—all under eight years old. And there's more than just Clarke's aunt and cousins, too. Kane's there, and Wells' dad, and Abby's parents. "Clarke," he says nervously.

She kisses him quickly. "Don't worry about it. My mom loves you; don't worry about anyone else."

"What about you?" he asks.

She shrugs, giving him a coy smile, and goes to say hello to her mom, who's having an animated conversation with Aurelia. He moseys over to the kitchen, where Abby's set out snacks on the counter. There's a girl of about six climbing up onto one of the barstools so she can reach the snacks. "Hi. I'm Silvia," she says, sticking olives onto her fingers. "Who are you?"

"I'm Bellamy," he says.

She blinks at him like he's an idiot.

"I'm Clarke's boyfriend," he says.

"Oh." She doesn't seem to care, though; the olives are much more interesting.

He feels a tug on his jeans and looks down to see a little boy looking up at him. He can't be more than a year and a half, and when Bellamy says hi, he doesn't even shy away.

Silvia looks over the counter. "Oh, that's Thomas. He doesn't talk a lot."

Clarke comes into the kitchen and grins when she sees Thomas waiting for Bellamy to pick him up. "See? They all love you, even the little ones." She picks Thomas up and hugs him, and then he wriggles down and toddles away. "Hey, Kaylee."

"I'm not Kaylee," Silvia says absently.

"Are you sure?" Clarke asks, and Bellamy gets the idea that this happens a lot. "You look just like her."

The girl rolls her eyes dramatically. "That's because we're twins," she sighs.

Clarke laughs and hugs Silvia. "I know which one you are, don't worry."

"Sure you do," she says.

Clarke puts her arm in Bellamy's and pulls him away. "Come on, Bellamy. You didn't even say hi to my mom yet."

"She was busy."

Clarke snorts. "Nice try."

Clarke drags him around the living room and introduces him to everyone he doesn't already know, the last of which is Wells' dad. "I told you about Wells, right?"

He tightens his fingers around hers a little. "Yeah." He holds out a hand to Mr. Jaha. "I'm Bellamy Blake."

"Nice to meet you, Bellamy Blake." He squeezes Bellamy's hand instead of shaking it, and the look he gives Bellamy is strange and intense and terrifying. "I've heard you're well-liked around here."

"Thelonious, don't scare him," Kane says, inserting himself into the little circle of conversation.

Jaha nods to Kane, raising his hands a bit. "I'm just doing my duty as Jake's good friend, making sure his daughter isn't in the throes of some no-good hooligan." He looks Bellamy over, and adds, "But you're clearly no hooligan, and I'm not going to argue with Abby's judgement." He shrugs and looks into his cup, which is empty, and he moves away in search of a refill.

"Don't mind him," Kane tells Bellamy. "He's a little crazy."

"How is he doing?" Clarke asks.

Kane shrugs. "You know how he is. Won't tell anyone anything until it's too late. I think he's been doing better now that he's got Allie to check up on him."

"Good." Bellamy feels Clarke relax next to him, and then she says with a cheeky smile, "And how are you doing, Marcus?"

Bellamy's never seen Kane look quite so flustered, but ever since he and Abby showed up arm-in-arm at the Christmas party last week, the cat's been well and truly out of the bag. "Just fine, thank you," Kane says.

The whole affair gets moved to the dinner table then, and Bellamy has to explain to Aurelia that, no, she has to sit at the kids' table with the other kids because the grown-ups are all sitting at the grown-ups table. She's about to throw a fit, but Silvia and Kaylee interrupt and beg her to sit between them at the kids' table, and that's the end of it.

After dinner, Clarke stays to help her mother clean up while Cece and Clarke's cousins all duck out so they can get back home in time for their own Christmas Eve family traditions. By the time Bellamy and Clarke get home, Aurelia's fighting tooth and nail to stay up until Santa comes, and it takes both Clarke and Bellamy to get her bathed and into bed.

They stay up to put the presents under the tree, and Clarke goes on about how everyone liked Bellamy and Aurelia just like she knew they would.

"Clarke," he says, stopping her with a hand on her waist. "What about you?"

She gives him a long, sweet kiss like a peppermint candy stick. "Yeah, okay, you got me. I love you, too."

He grins, because she's never said it to him before, only ever to his blindingly-adorable daughter. He's known it for a while, but he's never heard her say it. Her eyes look like they're sparkling the way they reflect the dancing Christmas tree lights. "Oh, good," he says, feigning dramatic relief. "That would have made my next move really awkward if you didn't."

She gives him a funny look, and he kisses it right off her face.

"I love you, Clarke Griffin. Merry Christmas."

Clarke beams, and then she drags him off to bed.

(If Santa Claus were to come down the non-existent chimney, Bellamy's pretty sure he and Clarke wouldn't even notice.)


	61. Mine Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas morning experiences a small hiccup.

Despite her late night, Ellie is up at seven the next morning as always, and shouts about it being Christmas until Bellamy gets up and lets her out of her crib.

"We should have gotten her a bed for Christmas," Clarke says, shuffling to the coffee pot and flicking it on.

"Tristmas!" Ellie squeals. "Sanna Claus anna reimbeers eatin' cookies!" She points to the half-eaten cookies on coffee table.

"Yeah, Santa ate some cookies," Bellamy says. "Did he leave you a stocking?"

"I 'unno." She shrugs.

"Maybe you should look around the living room and see if you can find the stockings," Bellamy says.

Ellie searches for the stockings while Bellamy kisses Clarke good morning. It was his idea to hide the stockings, to give him and Clarke a few more minutes to wake up before diving into Christmas morning.

"Good idea," she tells him, and she has time to get her coffee before the telltale shriek of excitement that means Ellie's found the stockings.

"Daddy! Sanna Claus gimme stockins!" She comes into the kitchen with all three stockings in her arms. She looks like she's going to drop all of them.

"I don't know, baby," Clarke says. "What do they say on them?"

Ellie drops them all on the floor, and then picks one up and shows the name on it to Clarke. "Wassit says?"

"That one says 'Daddy' on it," Clarke says.

"Daddy!" Ellie hands the stocking to her dad, and holds up the next one.

"That one says 'Clarke' on it."

"Mine mom?"

Clarke exchanges a look with Bellamy. They've been having this issue ever since Ellie's friends at day care told her what _mom_ meant. "No, it says 'Clarke', baby girl."

"Tha's you," Ellie says. "Mine mom."

"You wanna handle this?" Clarke asks Bellamy.

He shrugs, sets the stocking on the counter, and crouches down to Ellie's eye level. "Do you remember when we went to visit Miss Katie?"

"Baby Kin mom?"

"Yeah, baby Quin's mom. Do you remember when we went to see her?"

"Her reemee 'tories?"

"Yeah. Baby Quin was in her tummy."

Ellie nods. "Baby inna tummy anna—" Ellie pokes Bellamy's arm. "Poke!"

Clarke's amazed, frankly, that Ellie remembers something like that, when half the time she can't remember that they've had pancakes every day for a week.

"Right. So Miss Katie is baby Quin's mom, but Clarke isn't your mom, kiddo."

Ellie stares at Bellamy for a long two or three seconds, and then she just starts screaming. She doesn't let Clarke or Bellamy pick her up, just stands on the floor and screams for a while. Clarke's phone rattles against the counter island, and it's a text from Raven asking who ruined Christmas.

 _Bellamy told Ellie I'm not her mom_ , Clarke replies.

 _Well, you guys really shouldn't lie to her_ is Raven's next message, and Clarke just sends back a question mark. _Has no one bothered to tell you that you've been that kid's mom since that time you told Bellamy off for trying to feed her cold formula?_

Clarke stares at Raven's words, and then she hands her phone to Bellamy, who just shrugs.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Clarke snaps. "We both know I'm not Aurelia's mother."

"Trust me, I'm well aware of that," he bites. "But Raven's not the first person to think you've been more than a neighbor to us, to Aurelia especially. Last week at the Christmas party, Lincoln's brother thought you were my—my wife." He stammers over the last bit, and it would be cute if Clarke wasn't painfully aware that they're dancing around each other.

"We had this discussion. I'm not her mom."

He scratches at his scalp with one hand. "I hate to break it to you, princess, but you pretty much are."

"Bellamy—"

"Yeah, you didn't give birth to her, but you've done more for her than her birth mother ever did, and she doesn't know any better. She's not even two years old yet; she's not going to understand the difference."

"She's not my daughter," Clarke says, but even as she says it she doesn't really believe it. She crouches down to Ellie's level; the poor girl has stopped screaming, but now she looks like she's been utterly betrayed, with two of her fingers in her mouth. "I'm not your mom like Miss Katie is baby Quin's mom, okay? That's someone else. But I still love you just as much. Maybe more."

Ellie points a saliva-covered finger at Clarke. "Mine mom?"

Clarke heaves a sigh. "Sure, kiddo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha im fine just leave me here
> 
> is there a ceiling on how fluffy fluff can get? because if not i think i'm going to just float away forever


	62. Grandma 'Rora's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke meets Bellamy's mother.

In the aftermath of the stocking fiasco, Aurelia refuses to let go of the idea that Clarke is her mom. Christmas morning is an exercise in futility on Bellamy's part to get Aurelia to give him a hug, because she just wants to cling to "mine mom" and never let go.

When Bellamy's mother opens her front door, the first thing out of Aurelia's mouth is, "Gamma! Mine mom!"

Bellamy fights the urge to hide behind Clarke from the strange, scrutinizing look his mother is giving him. Clarke introduces herself by name, and then Octavia and Lincoln appear in the living room behind Aurora, and everyone's shuffling inside. Aurora stops her son just inside the door.

"Hi, Mom," he says, and hugs her because he knows what's coming next and he'd really like to avoid it.

"Her mom?" Aurora says.

Bellamy runs a hand over his face. "It's complicated."

"Just because it confused a toddler doesn't mean it's complicated."

Octavia and Lincoln have taken Clarke and Aurelia into the living room to play a game or something, so Bellamy and his mom go into the kitchen. "It has nothing to do with me and Clarke," he prefaces. "But Aurelia doesn't know any better. I tried to explain it to her this morning, and she screamed bloody murder." He shivers involuntarily at the memory; he'd heard plenty of tantrum screams, but that one had actual pain in it.

"You could have brought her over sooner," Aurora sniffs. "I'm a little offended I had to wait this long to meet the de-facto mother of my only grandchild."

"Mom..."

"I hope I don't have to wait as long to meet any _other_ family members."

Bellamy puts his hands up. "No way," he says. "Hell no. Not—not for a while. We've got enough trouble with Aurelia."

Aurora smoothes her son's hair, and kisses his forehead. Bellamy's only half an inch taller than his mom, and Bellamy's pretty sure his dad must have been a short man, because Octavia's not terribly tall either. "Mmhmm," she hums, and then she shoos him out of the kitchen so she can finish getting dinner ready.

"What was that about?" Clarke asks; Octavia's looking at Bellamy like she already knows.

He shrugs. "My mom's just glad to meet you."

Aurelia darts from where she's standing at the coffee table up into Clarke's lap. "Mine mom!" she says, wrapping her arms around Clarke's neck. "Mine!"

"Oh, I see how it is," he jokes. "You got yourself a mom, and now Dad's old news."

Clarke reaches up and pulls him by the hand down next to her. "What do you think, Ellie?"

"Mine mom!"

Clarke laughs. "Yeah, but what about Daddy? We still love him, too."

Aurelia looks at Bellamy and then shifts so she can put one arm around Clarke's neck and one around Bellamy's. "Daddy too!"

Bellamy leans toward Clarke, mostly because he would _really_ like to kiss her right here, in front of the rest of his family, but then the doorbell rings and Octavia drags him off the couch so they can greet Aurora's parents. Aurelia seems to lose her intense focus on Clarke for a while, because being the only child in the entire house puts her squarely in the center of attention for the rest of the evening, but when it's time to go to bed that night, she makes "mine mom" tuck her in four times before she'll actually go to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this one's short, but the next two are looooong (like, almost 3000 words together long).


	63. Birthday Barbecue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia's second birthday party takes place in the park.

It's unseasonably warm for January the week of Aurelia's birthday, so Clarke convinces Bellamy to have it at the park, where they can invite some of Ellie's friends from day care. Most of the rest of the building comes along, too. By the time Lincoln and Bellamy start barbecuing, it looks like a huge party, picnic blankets spread everywhere, two-year-olds running around shrieking on the playground. They've monopolized a good third of the grassy part of the park, and, later, Clarke thinks that was probably her first mistake.

Her part as party hostess is pretty much done for now, so she circles past the barbecue pit to tell Bellamy she'll be at the playground if he needs her, and then she goes to find Ellie and the other kids. Bellamy texts her fifteen minutes later to tell her the hot dogs are done, and she relays the message to the other moms milling about the playground. She catches Ellie at the end of a slide, and swings her up into her arms.

"Mommy!" Ellie squeals. "Mommy, down!"

Clarke kisses Ellie's nose. "You want a hot dog?"

"Hot hot?"

"Yeah. Daddy says dinner's ready."

Ellie wriggles out of Clarke's arms anyway, and Clarke knows for a fact she's not trying to get back to the playground; that girl _loves_ food. She runs back to the food as fast as her little legs will carry her, and Clarke helps her put her hot dog together and find a seat next to her friends. They do presents and cake, and then set the kids on the playground again, but Ellie tugs on Clarke's sleeve. "Mommy, gotta go." She's dancing a little, the way she does when she's got to pee.

"Okay, baby, let's go." Clarke is _so_ glad Ellie was an early potty-trainer. It happened almost by itself, and in less than a week, Ellie was done wearing diapers during the day, though Clarke and Bellamy still make her wear them to bed for now. Plus, taking Ellie to the bathroom is a good excuse to stop and give Bellamy a kiss, because she knows he'd lose his mind if he suddenly couldn't find Ellie or Clarke.

When they walk out of the bathroom, Clarke just about loses her own damn mind, because Amber's standing in front of them with a crazy, murderous kind of hunger on her face. Bellamy's way too far away for Clarke to send Ellie back, and so Clarke just picks Ellie up and hugs her against her hip.

"What do you want?" Clarke asks.

The look on Amber's face changes to something so falsely peaceful and happy that Clarke holds onto Ellie a little tighter. "I just want to say hello to my baby girl."

Ellie hides in Clarke's shoulder when Amber takes a step forward.

"Back off," Clarke says.

"I'm her _mother_ ," Amber says.

"Mama," Ellie says quietly. "Whozzat?"

Before Clarke can answer, Amber cuts in. "I'm your mama, sweetie."

Ellie wraps her arms tighter around Clarke's neck and says, "Mine mom."

Clarke ignores Amber for a moment and smoothes Ellie's hair. "Yeah, baby, I'm right here."

"Whozzat?"

"I don't know," Clarke says, her eyes trained on Amber. In other circumstances, Clarke would push past Amber and walk away, but she's holding Ellie, and there's nowhere to go but backward into the bathroom, and there's no second exit.

"Peysleigh, sweetie, don't you remember your mommy?"

"She doesn't remember you," Clarke snaps.

Amber's face twists into a scowl, and her voice jumps octaves and decibels. "How dare you say she doesn't remember me? She is my _child_."

Clarke's dumbstruck for a moment at the sheer idiocy of Amber's statement; before she can come up with a way to tell Amber exactly how wrong she is, Mrs. Sinclair rounds the corner. "Is there a problem, Clarke?"

Clarke arches an eyebrow at Amber. "This isn't over," Amber snaps. "You can't just keep my own child from me." She stalks away, and Clarke sags a little in relief, kissing the top of Ellie's head.

"Thank you," she tells Mrs. Sinclair. "I can't believe she did this."

"Didn't you have a restraining order?" Mrs. Sinclair asks.

"We did, but it expired."

"Hm." She considered for a moment, and Clarke thought she was probably one of the luckiest people in the world to have such good neighbors.

"I should get back to the party," Clarke says.

Ellie picks up her head on the way back and asks, "Whozzat?"

"That was Mrs. Sinclair. You know her."

"No, 'nother one."

"Just someone your daddy used to know," Clarke lies.

The second he sees Clarke, Bellamy's face clouds with worry, and Clarke wonders if he saw Amber after she stalked away.

"What happened?" he asks, one hand on Clarke's face and the other on Ellie's head. "Did she fall?" He checks Ellie's legs. "You weren't gone that long."

Clarke throws her free arm around Bellamy's neck and mutters Amber's name in his ear, too quietly for Ellie to hear. When she steps away from him, he's as white as the paper plates on the table behind him.

"Here?" he asks.

Clarke nods.

Bellamy rubs his eyes with a hand. "Jesus _fucking_ Christ," he breathes.

"Bell? Is everything okay?" Octavia asks. Even after years of not really speaking to her brother, she still knows when something's wrong.

Bellamy tries to reassure his sister, but halfway through his sentence, Lincoln comes up behind her, and before long, a dozen people are crowded around Bellamy and Clarke. It's the Sinclairs who save them again, loudly announcing that they've got jumbo marshmallows for roasting. The announcement breaks the mob-mentality spell that's fallen over the party, and everyone but Octavia disperses.

"We'll be okay," he says, and that satisfies Octavia for the moment. As soon as she's gone, he wraps his arms around Clarke and Ellie for a moment, and then he takes a deep breath and steps back. "Do you want to go play on the playground, little princess?"

"Daddy too," she mumbles. "Pus' me onna swing."

"Whatever you want, kiddo," he says, taking her from Clarke and hugging her to him. He rests her on his forearm like a seat, and the way his hand curls around her leg belies his anxiety.

They don't see Amber for the rest of the day, don't get wind of her for the rest of the week, but Bellamy's not so stupid as to think Amber's gone. Clarke knows it, too, and whenever they go out, there's always a tension hanging around them, like they expect her to jump out from behind every corner. Aurelia feels it, too, and despite his best efforts otherwise, she starts to hate going out of the building. She cries in the mornings before going to day care. She fusses when they have to go grocery shopping. She even whines about going to Abby's house, which is maybe one of her favorite places in the whole world.

Neither Clarke nor Bellamy will let Amber keep them from living their lives as usual, though, so they continue to take Aurelia to day care and the grocery store and the park, although the last happens less often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TO BE CONTINUED....
> 
> (P.S. Amber, that's not how this works. That's not how _any_ of this works.)


	64. Charges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amber confronts Bellamy in one of the worst possible places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have gone a little overboard with the italics but the conversation got dramatic.
> 
> Also, obligatory language warning. Bellamy's anger-speech is riddled with bad words.

The inevitable happens when Bellamy goes to pick Aurelia up from day care. Amber is sitting at the bus stop across the street from the day care center, arms folded over her chest, scowl deep and dark on her face. He parks, and when he gets out, she gets up and runs across the street to intercept him before he can get in the gate of the play yard.

"No," he says, before she can say anything. "Whatever you're after, I won't give it to you."

"I don't want you to _give_ me anything. I just want to see my baby girl."

Bellamy feels his fingernails bite into his palms. "If you wanted to see her, you shouldn't have _dumped her in my lap_ ," he snarls.

"I thought you _wanted_ kids," she snaps back.

"You didn't even tell me you were _pregnant_ , and then you just show up at my door and drop her in the middle of my life? She had to sleep in a _box_ , Amber. A fucking cardboard _fucking_ box." He's shaking head to toe, and he's not sure if the trembling in the lines of her face is her own anger, or his.

"So you're saying you don't even _want_ her?"

"Of course I _want_ her. Jesus! She's my _daughter_."

"She's my daughter, too!"

He's not in the practice of hitting people during verbal fights, particularly women, but it takes an extra grit of his teeth and a squeeze of his fists to keep him from doing something he'll regret afterward. "No," he growls. "She's not."

"Why do you keep _saying_ that?" Amber screeches, her face contorting viciously. "I _carried_ her. I gave _birth_ to her."

"You say that like you did her a fucking favor. She's not your daughter any more. You gave that up when you fucking _abandoned_ her. You don't get to just leave her with someone else and come back when she's old enough to be fucking _fun_." He can hardly breathe for all his rage, and he severely hopes she's going to get mad enough to walk away soon.

"I'm her _mother_!" Amber repeats, as if the fact has any significance.

He's so angry he laughs, "No, you  _f_ _ucking_ aren't." Bellamy tries to walk past her, and she lets out an indignant screech and shoves him in the chest.

"Let me _see her_!" she shrieks.

" _No_ ," Bellamy says loudly, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

He has pretty good reflexes, being a security guard and having done his fair share of combatives training, but he's not expecting her to hit him, so when her fist flies at him, he doesn't duck in time, and he sees stars when her knuckles connect with his face. He _does_ expect her to hit him elsewhere after that, so her kick to his groin knocks more or less harmlessly off his shin.

His eye is watering badly, and the pain and blurry vision are a sure sign he's going to have a _bad_ black eye later, but her attempt at actual fighting dissolves into flailing her limbs uselessly at him, so it's not hard to deflect her. It's only seconds before he hears the siren blip and there's a police car at the curb.

The officer gets out of his car. "Is there a problem here?" he asks.

Bellamy brushes one more swing aside, and then Amber's complaining loudly about how Bellamy won't let her see her daughter.

"Sir?" asks the officer. He clearly doesn't put much stock in what Amber's saying.

Bellamy touches his eye, and confirms that, yes, it's going to bruise good and black. "She's right," he admits. "But she has no _right_ —" He glances at Amber. "To my daughter."

The officer arches an eyebrow and says _sir_ again. He's got his notepad in one hand and a pen in the other, poised to take notes.

The part of him that might have wanted to protect Amber from the authorities was as broken as the capillaries in his face. He took a deep breath and launched into the shortest version of the story he could put together, ignoring all of Amber's indignant squeaks. "We were involved a few years ago. She was pregnant when we broke it off. I didn't know she was pregnant until she showed up at my apartment with a four-day-old baby, put her in my arms, and left without bothering to tell me she wasn't coming back." He pauses, and when the officer just looks at him, he adds, "She came back at my daughter's first birthday and harassed me and other people who live in my building, so I took out a restraining order. It expired a little less than a month ago. She harassed my girlfriend and my daughter just last month at my daughter's second birthday party."

The police officer looks at Bellamy, then at Amber, who's growing increasingly outraged. "Is that true, ma'am?" he asks Amber.

Instead of denying it, Amber glares at Bellamy and then says, "He _said_ he wanted kids."

The officer almost looks amused beneath his mask of calm professionalism. "Sir, you are within your right to press harassment and assault charges, if you so choose."

Bellamy looks at Amber, who's pacing angrily, and he's about to let her go because he just wants her out of his life, but then he hears a small, familiar voice at the fence next to him.

"Daddy?" Aurelia asks, and when he turns and looks at her, she's got one arm through the chain link fence, and she looks so worried and scared and he'll be damned if he's going to let Amber _fucking_ Boorman do this to him and his.

"Yes," he says firmly, giving Amber a hard glare.

This time, when Amber goes ballistic, it's the police officer who dodges her flailing limbs and pins her against his car so he can handcuff her while he rattles off her rights. By the time Bellamy turns away from Amber and the police officer, Aurelia's rattling the fence and crying for Bellamy over and over. He looks up at the day care aide who's trying to keep the other kids distracted, and she nods, so he reaches over the short fence and picks Aurelia up.

"D-daddy," she sobs against him. Her little body shakes against his, and she's got tears streaming down her face.

"It's okay, shh," he says, smoothing her hair. "It's okay." He holds her and sings reassurances under his breath while he gives the officer his information.

"I'll let you take care of your daughter," the officer says. "And put some ice on that," he adds, pointing to his own eye. "It'll help keep the swelling down."

"Uh, thanks," Bellamy says. "Don't you need me to give a statement or something?"

The officer holds up the notepad. "Got it already. Unless you have something else to add?"

Bellamy shakes his head. "No. Thank you, officer." He unlatches the gate with one hand and goes into the day care center. "Sorry about that," he tells one of the aides. "Are the other kids okay?"

"They'll recover," she says. "It's not the first time something like that has happened, although it's usually across the street at the bus stop." She hands him the signout sheet. "Do you want some ice for that?"

"Huh? Oh, uh, no, I'll get some when I get home. Thanks, though."

He takes Aurelia's backpack—so much smaller and lighter than the diaper bag—and carries her out to the truck. "You ready to go home, kiddo?"

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, we're gonna go home and see Mommy." He kisses her hair and puts her in her car seat.

"Her hitted you, Daddy," she says, pointing at his face. "Gotta boo-boo."

"Yeah, she hit me. Will you kiss it better?" He leans into the truck and Aurelia kisses his cheek with a loud _smack_.

"Ah better!"

"Oh, thank you. I feel so much better already."

He doesn't, though, and when he gets home, he sends Aurelia in ahead of him in the hopes that she'll distract Clarke long enough for him to at least get to the bathroom and assess the damage before Clarke sees.

It doesn't work, and Clarke's indignant rage shouldn't make him so giddy, but it does, and the way she writes Amber's arrest off as long overdue shouldn't turn him on, but it does, because it means she really, really loves him.

(He really, really loves her, too, except when she uses the hydrogen peroxide to clean out the cut above his eye.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahaha BYE BYE AMBER


	65. Valentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Wick spend a lazy Sunday morning together.

The only complaint Raven will ever have about how her little family starts is that it starts more or less officially on Valentine's Day, which is the most cliché day to start anything of the kind.

She knew she was in it for the long haul a while ago, when she caught herself grinning at the initial agency paperwork, even though it took hours to fill out and came with a dissertation-sized stack of reading material.

It's that same reading material that Kyle's reading to her, tangled up together in her bed on a lazy Sunday morning. She likes when he reads; he tries to sound like a generic text-to-speech function, but he has a terrible poker face and she can hear everything that makes him excited or nervous or skeptical.

She's definitely listening to what he's reading at least a little bit, but she's also a bit distracted by the thought of him curled up in a much smaller bed with a much smaller person reading a much smaller book.

"Are you even listening to what I'm reading?" he asks.

"Yeah. Of course. Transitions and teddy bears and—stuff." She bites her lip, and he rolls his eyes and sets the booklet aside.

He kisses her, and bites her lip for her like he always does when he catches her biting her lip. "You know there's going to be a test, right?"

She snorts. "I know. But I spent half my life in the system. I know how this shit works. You show up and the six or eight months you spend with these new people is all sunshine and rainbows, and then instead of adopting you, they decide you're not the perfect little girl they're looking for, so you end up back at a foster home with kids you've known your whole life and hate living with." Okay, so maybe she's still really bitter about the family that didn't adopt her when she was eight, even though she thought she fit in perfectly.

Kyle's fingers caress her face, and sue her if it turns her on because he is going to be the best dad to some poor orphan kid. "We talked about this, Raven. We're not going to string a kid along. I promise."

Raven heaves a sigh. "Good."

He picks up the booklet again, and two pages later, he catches her not listening.

"It's not my fault!" she complains. When she tells him why she's distracted, he just hands her the booklet.

"You read, then, if I'm so distracting."

Raven wrinkles her nose, but she starts reading.

"Stop, stop," he says after not very long. He takes the booklet from her. "I can't listen to you read any longer."

Raven frowns. "What?"

"I can't do it. I can't pay attention when you're just laying there reading."

She narrows her eyes at him. "You're a dork," she says.

"Well, yeah. That's why you love me, isn't it?"

"It's not the only reason." She grins saucily.

"You're killing me, Reyes," he says, burying his face in her neck. "God, but I love you."

"Well, that's good, because there's no way we're adopting a kid otherwise."

He picks his head up. "Holy shit," he breathes. "We're adopting a kid." It's the same thing he's said at least once a day for the last week, but it still makes her laugh, and when she does, he grins. "You know, if we really are going to adopt a kid, we're kind of missing something."

He sounds like he's being playful, but his hand is shaking just a little where it rests on her stomach. "Oh yeah?" she asks. "What's that?"

His other hand, hiding under his pillow, comes out holding a box. "Please, please, _please_ be my wife, Raven Reyes."

It's not at all how she'd ever imagined being proposed to, but she doesn't care because it's still romantic, proposing to her while they're talking about the family they're going to build. "Hell yes," she says.

He kisses her, and forgets to take the ring out of the box and put it on her, and when they look for it later, it takes them two hours to find the ring, because it gets wedged in between the mattress and the boxspring up by the headboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> b for effort, kyle. you tried a little bit.
> 
> ~~let's hope you keep better track of the baby~~


	66. Alexander the Grape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Wick's announcement makes it across the landing to 4C.

Bellamy's sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee and a book when Clarke bursts in the door, a giddy grin on her face. Aurelia looks up from the coffee table where she's coloring. "Mommy!" she squeaks. "Where you went?"

"Hey, baby," Clarke says, and then she looks at Bellamy. "You will never guess what Raven told me."

He puts his book down and goes to get her a cup of coffee. "I probably won't. Should I try anyway?" he teases.

"Well, first of all, they're actually for-real engaged now."

Bellamy snorts. "Finally."

" _Second_ ," Clarke leads, her grin widening as she smacks him lightly on the arm over and over like a hummingbird's wings, "they're _adopting_."

Bellamy hands her a cup of coffee—she practically sprinted to Raven's when she woke up and saw the text on her phone—and smiles. "So _that's_ the big secret."

Clarke frowns. "What kind of reaction is that?"

Okay, so maybe he already knew about the adoption, because when he'd passed Wick on the stairs the other day, he'd been carrying a stack of papers with the adoption agency's name printed on the top. And he's known about their impending engagement ever since Wick let it slip at the Christmas party that he was working himself up to actually asking her.

Bellamy shrugs sheepishly.

Clarke punches him in the shoulder. Hard. "Are you serious?"

"No one told me," he says. "I... saw some clues."

"Mommy," Aurelia says sternly, patting Clarke on the leg. She points to Bellamy. "You hitted Daddy."

Clarke flushes and looks truly apologetic. "Oh, you're right, baby. That wasn't nice of me. What should I do?"

"Say sorry," Aurelia says, nodding. "And kiss him better."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Clarke says, and Bellamy can tell she's fighting a saucy grin. She kisses him before she loses the fight.

"I think I can find it in my heart to forgive you," he teases.

Aurelia, however, isn't done with her scolding. She cranes her neck up at Clarke and says, "Don't hit no more, 'kay?"

"Okay." Clarke nods. "What about... tickles?"

Aurelia shrieks and runs off, and Clarke sets her coffee on the counter before she starts chasing Aurelia around the living room, until they're both giggling and breathless, sprawled on the living room floor. Bellamy sets his coffee next to Clarke's and stomps his way over to the living room, putting on his best big-giant voice. Aurelia jumps up and grabs the play sword from on top of her toy bin.

"Fee fi fo fum, I'm the great Colossus."

"I'm Agzanner the Grape!" Aurelia says. "I 'unna fight you!" She swings her sword at him, and starts by knocking both his legs off at the knees. She's aggressive, and he doesn't have a sword or a shield, so he goes down pretty quickly.

"Oh," he moans, falling to the floor next to Clarke. "Oh, you won. I am so defeated." He moans dramatically some more until Aurelia drops her sword and climbs on top of his chest to kiss him better.

"Daddy come back!" she says, draping herself over him in a hug. "I love you," she says in that small voice that he thinks is supposed to be a whisper.

Bellamy laughs. "I love you, too, little princess." He looks over at Clarke, who's watching him and Aurelia with all the warmth her blue eyes can muster. "And big princess."

(Something flickers over Clarke's face when he calls her _princess_ , but when he asks her later, she pretends she doesn't know what he's talking about.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahaha Bellamy you're gonna get in trouble soon if you're ~~not~~ too careful~


	67. Nana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke loves that her mother is so good with Aurelia.

Objectively, Clarke understands the reasons why both Murphy and Monroe and Raven and Wick got married in the courthouse with no fanfare. Murphy and Monroe don't have time to plan a wedding, because they have to take care of Quinley. Raven and Wick don't have time to plan a wedding because it takes too long and they're itching to get the adoption process rolling.

That doesn't mean there isn't going to be a party. Clarke is a designer and an artist, and her mother's house has a massive backyard, and she's not going to let _two_ weddings happen without a reception. When she brings it up, Raven and Murphy each look at her like she's crazy; their newlywed spouses are much more enthusiastic, and Clarke wins by virtue of a couple of puppy-dog faces.

She's not alone in her efforts, either. She ropes Bellamy into helping when he can, but she's also got Maya and Harper and Emori on her team, and the whole affair comes together in less than three weeks. Clarke gets a caterer and a five-tier cake, and Monty and Miller are more than happy to make sure there's enough alcohol to go around. Jasper volunteers to help set up, and even if it's solely because Maya's also helping set up, Clarke's not going to turn down an extra set of hands.

Ellie helps, too, when Clarke's setting up on Saturday morning. She carries around the basket of party favors and hands them to Clarke as Clarke puts them on the tables.

"Mommy, we're havin' a party?" she asks for the hundred thousandth time.

Clarke sets a wedding-dress party favor next to a tuxedo party favor. "Yes, baby, we're having a party. What's the party for?"

Ellie holds up another party favor. "Miss Katie!"

"Yeah, the party's for Miss Katie. Who else is the party for?"

"Um... Raven!"

Clarke nods. "That's right. Who else?"

"Baby Kin?" Ellie asks.

"Baby Quin's going to be here, but the party isn't for baby Quin. The party's for her daddy, though."

"Oh. Baby Kin daddy. My daddy, too?"

"No, baby, the party's not for your daddy."

Ellie looks super confused and a little sad. "I want Daddy," she whines.

"He'll be here, baby, but the party isn't for him."

Ellie gets stuck on the idea that Bellamy's not going to be there, though, and because it's a little past her naptime, she's too tired to care about the difference. Clarke puts the last of the favors on the table, and quickly switches gears.

"Hey, look! Your basket's empty! Do you want to go see if we can find a snack?"

Ellie nods, and tries to hide the fact that she's rubbing her eyes and yawning. Clarke shouts at Maya that she's going to take Ellie inside for a bit, and Maya just waves.

Ellie's at the counter eating grapes and cheese when they hear the rattle of the front door lock. "Who's that?" Clarke asks.

"Daddy!" Ellie answers excitedly.

"No, baby, I think it's someone else. Who lives in this house?"

Ellie gasps.

The door opens, and Clarke calls, "Hi, Mom!"

"Clarke?" She had a six-hour emergency surgery at five o'clock in the morning, and she sounds like she's dead tired.

"We're in the kitchen."

Clarke can hear her mother's tired footsteps, even without shoes, approach the kitchen. Abby's still in her dark blue scrubs.

"Nana Abby!" Ellie squeals, stuffing the last little cube of cheese in her mouth.

Clarke melts a little when her mother hoists Ellie onto her hip and engages her with talk of the party. Clarke's mother has always been a star with Ellie, even before Abby insisted that Ellie call her Nana, if she was going to call Clarke Mommy.

"Ellie," Abby says at an appropriate break in the conversation. "Nana has to go take a nap."

"It's you naptime?"

Abby nods. "Yes, it's my naptime. But I don't want to go by myself."

Ellie sighs, like it's such a chore, and says, "I 'unna go to you naptime?"

"Oh, I'd like that very much. Maybe we'll read a story first, yeah?"

Ellie nods. "Yeah, 'tory firs'."

"Okay." Abby hugs Clarke with her free hand. "You go finish your decorations. Miss Ellie and I are going to go lay down for a while."

"You don't have to, Mom. I know you had a long night."

"And miss out on quality time with my granddaughter? I don't think so."

"Thank you. Holler if you need anything." Clarke kisses Ellie's nose, and Ellie scrunches her face up. "I'll see you in a little bit, baby."

"I 'unna go to Nana Abby naptime."

"Okay, deal." Clarke smiles, and Ellie waves as Abby takes her upstairs for naptime.

When Clarke checks in on them later, Ellie is sprawled over Abby's torso like the little starfish that she is. Clarke can't help the stupid grin that blooms on her face, and she doesn't resist the impulse to pull out her phone and send a picture to Bellamy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm having an emotion and it's all this nana abby and naptime and cuteness
> 
> *flies into the sun*


	68. Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy's late to the party, but he doesn't miss out on the dancing.

Bellamy gets held so late at work that he misses dinner, but Clarke sends him into Abby's kitchen and there's a foil-wrapped plate of food in the oven waiting for him. "God, princess. You really know how to take care of a guy, don't you?" he says over the phone, even though she's maybe fifty feet and one sliding door away from him. He can see her smile when he hears her laugh over the phone.

"Hurry up and eat before you miss the rest of the fun," she says.

Bellamy finds a fork and sits at the counter island. "Yes, ma'am." He peels back the foil and grins. She hangs up on him, and he wolfs down the food, famished from his long day at work. When he's done, he throws the disposable dishes in the trash, downs a glass of water from the tap, and goes outside to find the party in full swing. He sneaks up behind Clarke and snakes his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Hey, princess."

"Hey, there."

"Thanks for saving me dinner."

"Yeah, of course. How was work?"

He shrugs. "Long. You seen my kid around, by any chance?"

"Last I checked, she was dancing." Clarke nods to the dance floor, and Bellamy searches for the pretty, pale green dress they found a couple of weeks ago just for the occasion. Aurelia's standing at Nate Miller's feet, bouncing up and down to the music and looking happy as a clam. Monty's standing behind Aurelia, one hand linked with Miller's, and when Aurelia turns around and begs Monty to pick her up, he obliges. He and Miller squeeze together, and Aurelia starts to babble excitedly.

Bellamy sidles up to them and asks, "Can I cut in?"

"Hey, Bellamy! You finally made it!" Miller crows. He sounds like he's taken full advantage of the liquor he and Monty procured.

"Daddy!" Aurelia dances vigorously. "Issa party!"

"That's right, baby girl," Bellamy says, stealing her away from Monty. "It's a party. Are you having fun?"

Aurelia nods. "You hafta stay at work?" she asks.

"Yeah, I had to stay late at work. Did you eat a good dinner?"

She nods again.

"Oh, good. Do you want to dance with me and Mommy?"

"Yeah!" She dances against his hip, one arm draped over his shoulder and the other flailing wildly.

Bellamy pulls Clarke out onto the dance floor, looping his free arm around her waist. They dance for maybe fifteen seconds before Aurelia's smacking Bellamy's arm and squealing, "Nana Abby! Nana Abby!"

"Do you wanna go dance with Nana?" Clarke asks. "I bet she wants to dance, too."

Abby's talking to Kane, who looks like he's trying to get her to dance, so Bellamy sets Aurelia on the ground. She runs to Abby and tugs on her finger until Abby gives in and slides out onto the dance floor with Aurelia and Kane, smiling all the while.

Clarke rests her head on Bellamy's shoulder. "Look at her," she murmurs.

"Who, Aurelia?"

"No, my mom. I haven't seen her this happy since my dad was alive."

"They're really good together."

"Who? My mom and Aurelia?"

Bellamy snorts. "No, your mom and Kane. I think he really loves her. Likes her, even."

"I used to hear stories about when they were kids and Marcus would always tease my mom and pull her hair, and my dad would jump in and pretend to beat him up."

"Sounds like a boy in like with a girl," he says, and tugs a little on the golden hair cascading down her back.

Clarke rolls her eyes as the song changes to something slower. Bellamy pulls her closer and they sway; across the dance floor, Abby and Kane are doing the same, except for the little body sandwiched between them, arms wrapped around Kane's neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay so y'all are gonna get two chapters today and two tomorrow to catch me up because i've been busy with this dumb thing called real life
> 
> in other news, oh my god abby and kane bellamy and clarke ellie and everyone stick a fork in me i'm DONE


	69. Wedding Fever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Murphy considers starting another bet, this time on how long Bellamy and Clarke will resist the wedding fever that's sweeping the building.

Katie wants to dance, so John takes their curious six-month-old and finds a patch of grass to lay a blanket out on. Quin's still a little iffy about sitting up on her own, but she's perfectly content to sit against her dad and play with her weird-shaped baby toys. A year ago, John would have grumbled about having to babysit while everyone else partied, but he loves his sweet little sunshine, and it's not like he lacks for people to talk to.

"God," Wick crows, dropping on the edge of the blanket. "She's getting big."

John nods. "Yeah. I heard you're actually looking for one of these."

Wick nods. "Yeah, we—we're supposed to hear back from the agency soon." He looks way too excited to be willingly diving headlong into being a parent. "Raven's more excited than she'll admit; I caught her sketching blueprints for a bedroom setup this morning."

John's about to find a reply, but he gets distracted by Katie, who's dancing like a total moron. "Oh, my god. Quinley, what is your mother doing? What's Mommy doing?"

"Mamamamamamam," is all Quin says, and then she picks up a toy half the size of her head and tries to stuff it whole into her mouth.

"Yeah, that's right. Mommy's dancing like a dork. Do you want to go dance, too?" he asks, kissing Quin's hair.

Quin looks up at him, and throws her toy.

"Come on, short stuff. Let's go dance with Mom." John gets up, holding Quin to his chest with one hand. Katie sees them coming and gives Quin a big, dumb smile, which John promptly kisses right off her face. "You having fun?" he asks.

She smirks. "Not as much fun as everyone with the last name Griffin," she says, and nods to the corner of the dance floor where Bellamy and Clarke are ignoring the pace of the music in favor of swaying and looking into each other's eyes.

"Gross," he comments, and then he sees Dr. Griffin and Kane, looking even stupider dancing with Ellie Blake, and he makes a face. "Are we taking bets yet on how long Dumb and Dumber are going to hold out against the wedding fever?"

Katie laughs and takes Quin from him. "You'd have to ask Raven. She's the bookie for this kind of thing." She shrugs. "It's a sucker's bet, anyway. Everyone but Bellamy and Clarke knows they're married already."

John glances over at Bellamy and Clarke again, who've just been rejoined by their own short-legged mushroom. "I can't even look at them," he complains. "I mean, I know about being in denial, but that's just dumb."

Katie laughs. "Yeah, well, they'll come around eventually."

"Yeah? You think so?"

She shrugs. "You did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and no, i'm not going to spoil any of it for y'all so y'all may as well just dance y'all selves right on away


	70. Jamie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wick and Raven get thrown into the deep end with the whole parenting thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> retroactive author's note because i'm lame and forgot: this chapter is property of [julia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/enoughtotemptme) because she's the one who named jamie :)

Kyle stands awkwardly in the second bedroom. Raven is re-making the bed and going on and on about something completely unrelated, but he knows why she's nervous.

"Raven."

"What?" she snaps, tucking the blanket in, and then immediately untucking it.

Kyle sits on the bed, and Raven glares at him for messing up her handiwork. He grabs her hands and pulls her into his lap. "Everything is going to be fine."

"And what if it's not? What if everything's not fine? Jamie doesn't even talk, he's so scared of everything."

"Yeah, and I think we've done more research on taking care of him than anyone else ever would." He pulls her down to kiss her. "We've been hanging out with Jamie every day for two weeks. We have to bring him home some time."

"I know, I know." She gets up. "Get off the bed so I can make it."

Kyle groans. "You're killing me, Reyes."

She straightens the blankets, and it's effortless for him to imagine little Jamie there, getting tucked in by someone who loves him and takes care of him and keeps him safe. She stands up, hands on her hips, and shrugs. "I guess that's as good as it's gonna get."

"Finally," he jokes, and the glare she gives him doesn't last long.

* * *

Sunday starts the way every day has started for the last couple of weeks. Kyle and Raven get up early, work on their respective work stuff (both of their firms have been very generous in letting them work mostly from home while they go through this transition phase with Jamie), and then meet Jamie and Claudia for a few hours.

Jamie is a little less reserved every day, but someone must have told him about what's going to happen, because he clings to Claudia for a full hour before he'll play cars with Kyle and Raven.

Jamie hands Kyle a red car, the same color as the shirt Kyle's wearing, and when Kyle drives it around the rug, Jamie drives his favorite blue car around behind it. He tugs on Raven's arm, making her drive around with them, and Claudia asks the boy, "Are you going with Kyle and Raven?"

His big brown eyes blink at her, and then he nods.

Kyle can't help but grin at the way Jamie seems almost comfortable with the idea. They've been working up to it for weeks, of course, but it gives him hope for the coming months. They play cars a while longer, and Jamie slowly inches closer and closer to Kyle until he's comfortable enough to sit in Kyle's lap and drive his favorite blue car on Kyle's knee.

Claudia stays with them until they get home, and Jamie seems completely fine until Claudia walks out the door. Raven's in the kitchen making macaroni and cheese—Jamie's favorite—and Kyle's in Jamie's room helping him put away the toys in his suitcase, and Jamie runs out into the living room, looking for Claudia.

"Jamie," Kyle calls. "I need you to help me—"

Jamie bursts into tears. Kyle gets up and goes into the living room, only to find the poor boy standing at the door, wailing, his blanket in one hand and stuffed puppy in the other. He cries for fifteen minutes, and refuses to eat more than a few bites of dinner, and when it's time for bed, he lays in his new bed and wails until he falls asleep.

Jamie cries every time he wakes up, which is way too often, and Kyle and Raven take turns going into the room and reminding him that they're still there and he's still safe in bed and it's okay to just go right back to sleep.

By the time morning comes around, Jamie seems to be feeling better—he eats breakfast, anyway—and when Claudia calls for an update, she reminds them that it's going to be a struggle for Jamie to acclimate. Kyle's not going to just bail because it's hard, and Raven seems determined not to lose, either.

The crying continues for a solid week, and then one day Jamie wakes up at six-thirty in the morning and, instead of sitting in bed and wailing until someone comes to get him, he climbs out of bed and stands in the doorway of Kyle and Raven's room, clutching his blanket.

"Hey, buddy," Kyle says. "You wanna come up here? Or are you ready for breakfast?"

Jamie inches forward.

"It's okay. You can come up here."

Jamie inches forward some more, craning his neck to look up at the side of the bed where Raven's still sleeping.

"Raven's still asleep, but if you want to come up here, I bet she'd love for you to give her a good-morning hug."

Jamie continues to inch forward until he's lifting his arms so Kyle can hoist him up onto the bed. He climbs over Kyle and pokes Raven's face until she blinks sleepily at him.

"Hey, kid," she mumbles, and when Jamie hugs her neck, she realizes what's happening.

Kyle grins. "See? It's going to work out just fine," he tells her.

It does.

Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jamie elliot, everybody, the cutest fucking thing to ever stand on the planet*
> 
> *also scared of everything less cute than he is


	71. Caterpillar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke invites all of the fourth floor for dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is also property of [julia aka heda kom flofkru](http://archiveofourown.org/users/enoughtotemptme) because i forgot to dedicate the last chapter properly and also render unto fluff king what is fluff king's

Raven's been giving Clarke updates constantly about Jamie, and when it seems like he's finally starting to settle in, Clarke invites the whole floor to her apartment for dinner so Ellie can meet this friend she's heard so much about.

Ellie insists on bringing all her favorite toys, and she's setting them out on the floor in the living room when Raven knocks and then swings the door open. "Raven!" she squeals, and Clarke grabs her before she can rush at Raven's legs.

"Aurelia, what did I tell you earlier?" Clarke asks as Raven and Wick come in and close the door behind them. Jamie's clinging to Wick's neck, his face buried in Wick's shirt.

"What?" she asks.

"Do you remember what I told you about Jamie?"

"No, Raven."

"Yeah, about Raven and Jamie."

Ellie nods. "Yeah."

"What did I tell you?"

"Uh... be... nice. An' be dentle. An' be twiet." She puts a finger on her lips and whispers the last part.

"That's right."

Wick sets Jamie on the floor, and the boy throws his arms around Raven's leg and hides. Clarke lets Ellie go, and she walks up to him slowly.

"Hi," Ellie says. "I'm Ellie."

Raven brushes her fingers through Jamie's blond hair. "Can you say hi to Ellie, Jamie?"

He peeks out from behind Raven's leg and waves shyly.

"Why he doesn't say hi?" Ellie asks Raven.

"He's just shy. He doesn't like to talk, so he waves."

Wick crouches down to Jamie's eye level. "Do you want to go play with Ellie, buddy?"

"Yeah, play wif me!" Ellie squeaks. "Come on! I gotta toys here." She runs up to Jamie, and then remembers at the last second what Clarke said, so she pats him on the shoulder gently and tugs a little on his arm. He shies away, but she says, "Issokay you doesn't wanna talk. I can talk to you!" She puts her hands up and smiles.

Jamie peeks a little further out from behind Raven's leg, and when Ellie grabs his wrist with both hands, he looks surprised, but she remembers to be nice and gentle, and he follows her hesitantly into the living room.

Clarke hears Raven's sigh of relief and laughs a little.

"What? I thought for sure she'd scare the shit out of him," Raven mutters.

"So did I," Clarke says. "That's why Bellamy and I have been telling her all day to have some chill."

"Speaking of Bellamy," Wick says, getting back to his feet.

Clarke nods toward the door. "He's taking a shower. Apparently there was some excitement at work today. He should be over in a few minutes."

They go into the dining room, and Clarke doesn't miss the way Raven and Wick are constantly monitoring Jamie and Ellie playing. She hasn't seen much of Jamie, but she's heard a lot about his fear of pretty much everything, so when Ellie tries to show him one of her toys, a caterpillar that lights up and makes lots of noise and inches around on the floor, all three adults wait nervously for Jamie to burst into tears.

He makes a little whimpering noise and Ellie looks a little confused. "Don't cry," she says, patting his face. "Him's jus' fake." She picks up the caterpillar and flicks the switch. "See?" She thrusts it at him and he shrinks away. "No, don't be stared. Jus' touch him a li'l bit." She grabs Jamie's hand and puts it on the toy. "See?"

Jamie still looks wary when Ellie turns it back on, but when she hands it to him to put on the floor, he doesn't just drop it. He holds it away from him and sets it gingerly on the carpet.

Ellie grins and gives Jamie a hug. "Good job," she says. "Good not stared of a calerpillar."

Jamie pushes her away from him, and Clarke's relieved when she doesn't get mad, just goes and gets another toy to show him.

Bellamy shows up, sneaking in the door and skirting the playing children. "How are they doing?" he asks, kissing Clarke and dropping into a chair.

"I'm impressed," Raven says. "Your kid isn't a total terror."

"Hey, now. Don't jinx it," Clarke reminds her. "There's still—" She cranes her neck to look at the timer on the oven. "There's still twelve minutes before dinner's ready."

It all goes well for about nine minutes, and then Ellie gets too pushy and Jamie gets too scared, and by the time dinner's ready, both toddlers are crying about something or other, and Bellamy's having a serious talk with Ellie, and Wick's talking Jamie down, and Raven and Clarke are setting the table and hoping they can make it through dinner without any more tantrums.

"God, I hope they don't hate each other," Raven says. "That would suck."

"They don't hate each other," Clarke tells her. "They're kids. He's terrified of her, she's confused by him. She's two years old and fears almost nothing; I don't think she gets why or how he's so scared, especially because he's a whole year older than her." Clarke shrugs. "She'll learn."

She does.

Eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feat. jamie "scared of every damn thing" elliot & ellie "don't be scared of stuff" blake
> 
> they might become friends
> 
> eventually
> 
> (p.s. look at ellie getting so big her mis-pronounced words now just look like typos!)


	72. It's Art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby comes over for an early Mother's Day dinner.

Bellamy checks on the squash that's roasting in the oven while Clarke chases Aurelia around the living room, trying to get a comb through her nap-tangled hair. Abby's supposed to show up any time—they set the time for their early Mother's Day dinner to six and it's five after.

"Clarke, are you sure your mom knows we said six and not six-thirty?" Bellamy calls, setting the baking sheet of squash on top of the stove.

"She texted me at five-thirty and told me she was leaving. She probably just got stuck in traffic."

"At five-thirty on a Saturday?"

"Ellie, hold still, baby. I don't know. Maybe she forgot something at home and had to go back. Maybe she—"

There's a knock at the door and Aurelia shrieks excitedly. "Nana Abby!"

Bellamy wipes his hands on a kitchen towel and goes to answer the door. "Hi, Abby."

"Sorry I'm late," she says, but doesn't offer an excuse. She's got a box of store-bought shortcakes, and she drops them off at the counter island before going to say hello to her daughter.

"Happy Mother's Day, Mom," Clarke says. "Ellie, can you go get your card for Nana?"

Aurelia giggles and runs to her room.

"You look like you had quite a day," Clarke remarks.

Abby gives her daughter a hard stare. "Happy Mother's Day to you, too, Clarke."

Aurelia reappears before Clarke can rib her mother any more. "Nana Abby! I maked you a pressen!" She waves the card at Abby eagerly. "Open-a pressen from me!"

Abby takes the card from Aurelia and sits on the couch. "What a lovely card, Ellie. Did you draw the picture?"

Aurelia nods and her hands come up to mime while she talks. "I pain'ed my hands wif-a paints an' stick 'em onna paper an' draw 'em all up!"

"It's a very nice card, my darling." Abby hugs Aurelia and kisses her hair. "Thank you very much."

Bellamy goes back into the kitchen for a few minutes to finish frying up the pasta, and then calls the girls into the dining room for dinner.

"Seriously, though, I'm glad he makes you happy," Clarke's saying. She hoists Aurelia up into her booster seat and Bellamy starts serving pasta.

Abby gives her daughter a warm smile. "Speaking of," she says, her eyes fixed meaningfully on Bellamy. He looks away and focuses on not getting pasta all over the table.

"Mom, really?"

Bellamy sees Abby out of the corner of his eye, and she isn't flinching at all. Whatever conversation she and Clarke are having right now, Abby Griffin is determined. "Tell me you've at least considered it."

"Mom," Clarke warns.

Abby picks up her napkin, shakes it out, and drapes it in her lap. "You're right. I'm sorry. We don't need to discuss this at the dinner table."

Clarke leans back into her chair. "Thank you. Ellie, baby, do you want some milk or some juice?"

"Um... apper juice!"

"We don't have apple juice. We have cranberry juice and orange juice and milk."

"Berry juice!"

"Aurelia," Bellamy says. "Please use your nice words."

"Preeeeease, Mommy," Aurelia says, smiling her cutest, toothiest smile.

"Please what?" Bellamy prompts.

Aurelia squinches her nose in her attempt to be as cute as possible. "Purty pease I can have berry juice, Mommy?"

"Of course you can have some juice." Clarke gets up and Bellamy hears her rummage in the fridge for the cranberry juice. Bellamy avoids looking at Abby; he's afraid that if he makes eye contact with her, she'll know exactly what he's thinking about, what he's pretty much always thinking about nowadays. "Here you go, baby girl."

"Teenk you, Mommy."

"Why, you're very welcome."

The rest of dinner is fairly uneventful, at least until Aurelia starts getting full and starts mashing the squash with her fork and her fingers and eating only the pieces of farfalle. "Aurelia Blake, are you playing with your food?"

Aurelia doesn't even look up at him when she nods.

"Aurelia," he warns, and now she looks up, one squash-covered finger in her mouth. "Is it polite to play with food during dinner?"

She just blinks at him.

"Aurelia Daphne..."

"But Daddy," Aurelia whines. "Iss art! I makin' a pitcher!"

Oh, he is so going to kill Clarke for this. Just so she knows he knows it's her fault, he runs his sock covered toes none-too-gently down her shin and gives her a capital-L Look. "It isn't polite to make art at the dinner table, either."

"But I wanna!" she cries.

"Are you finished eating?" he asks.

Aurelia sniffles. "Yeah," she mumbles, sliding down in her chair as far as her booster seat's buckle will let her.

"Would you like to be excused?"

She shakes her head. "I wanna make a pitcher!" she snaps angrily.

"Not with your food. If you want to be excused to go in the living room and get out your crayons and your coloring book, then you can do that."

"No!" she shouts. "No, no, no, no!"

"You can go in the living room and make art with your art supplies, or you can stay at the table and eat your food. Those are your choices."

"No!" Aurelia screams. "I don't WANNA!"

"I'm going to count to five, and when I'm done counting, if you still want to yell, you can go yell in the time-out chair."

"NO DON'T COUNT! DON'T COUNT!"

Aurelia keeps yelling while Bellamy counts, and when he gets to five, Aurelia screams bloody murder. Clarke unbuckles her and lifts her onto the floor. "Go sit in the time-out chair until you're done yelling," Bellamy says.

Aurelia wails the entire way to the bright green chair in the corner of the kitchen, but she sits in it anyway and just keeps on yelling.

Bellamy can feel Abby's eyes on him, like she's assessing his parenting.

"Well," Clarke says. "Guess this means no more food sculpting at snack time." She sounds disappointed, and Bellamy sighs.

"Gotta have rules, princess. I can't just let her do whatever the hell she wants."

"I know. I didn't really expect her to start playing with her food at the dinner table," Clarke says.

"She's testing her boundaries," Abby chimes in. "You did it when you were her age. She'll grow out of it in, oh, fifteen or twenty years, if you're lucky."

Bellamy groans.

"Don't worry," Abby says. "You're handling it much better than most people I know."

Clarke and Bellamy clear off the table while Abby prepares dessert. Aurelia comes back when she hears the telltale sound of whipped cream in a can, and climbs up into Abby's lap so she can "help" eat Abby's shortcake. Abby tells a few little-Clarke stories that have Bellamy laughing and Clarke turning red as the strawberries on her plate.

Bellamy is especially mindful of the way his daughter loves her nana, and the way Aurelia is only consoled when Abby leaves by the promise of next week. _One of these days_ , he tells himself, and then he has to stop thinking about it for a while because it's his turn on bath duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wheeeee actual parenting and screaming children my favorite
> 
> also if you want to know what they were eating it's [this pasta right here](http://www.thekitchn.com/recipe-pasta-with-butternut-sq-64966) and it's like my favorite pasta dish ever


	73. Mother's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, the contest for cutest kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy mother's day to all you(r) mothers!

Mother's Day is a lovely, lazy morning of breakfast in bed and snuggles and an adorable card that Ellie made for her at daycare, with handprints in the shape of a heart and a caption that says, _I love my mom the mostest!_

When Clarke's made her way through the shower and a few cups of coffee, they go to the park to let Ellie run around for a while. Raven and Wick show up not ten minutes after Clarke and Bellamy do, because apparently one of the things Jamie isn't afraid of is the big twisty slide.

"Mommy! Mommy! Jamie's here!" Ellie squeals. "I wanna go onna swings wif Jamie!"

"Baby, Jamie might not want to go on the swings."

"But they not scary," she says matter-of-factly. "Swings is just fun."

"You can ask Jamie if he'd like to go on the swings with you, and if he doesn't, I'm sure Daddy will push you on the swings anyway."

"No, I wanna go wi' Jamie."

"Well, go ask him."

Ellie runs to Jamie, who shrinks away when she approaches way too fast for his liking. "You wanna go onna swing wif me?" Clarke hears her ask. "It's really fun."

Jamie looks over at the slide, and then at the swings, and then he shrugs.

"Yay!" Ellie squeals, and Jamie only flinches a little at the sudden noise.

Bellamy and Wick take the little ones to the swings, and Raven plops down on the park bench next to Clarke. "Look at this," Raven says, holding out the pendant she's wearing. It's nothing but a few little Legos stacked together, but she looks so proud of it. "Jamie made this for me for Mother's Day."

Clarke pulls the card out of her purse and shows it to Raven. "I got a card, and breakfast in bed. And a bit of breakfast theater." Ellie and Bellamy did a new hero story—this one an adaptation of the Battle of Troy, in which the hero (Ellie) hid inside a fake horse (laundry basket) in order to trick the king of Troy (Bellamy) into losing the battle for the city (closet).

"I got chocolate chip pancakes and snuggles and big fat grins from both of my boys," Raven says.

"Well, I get snuggles and smiles from both of my Blakes on a regular basis."

"Yeah, but your kid's half banshee, half tornado. Mine's like a calm lake. A really adorable calm lake."

Clarke snorts. "You wanna talk about cute kids? Ellie's two, and Jamie's three, which means by default Ellie's cuter, because she's a whole year younger."

"Not even!" Raven argues. "Jamie's a year _older_ and a year _smarter_ and therefore a year _cuter_."

"That's totally not how that works! Ellie's the most adorable thing in the building except Quin, and that's just because Quin's still small enough to fit in the crook of Murphy's elbow when she sleeps."

"Oh, god. Did you see Monroe's pictures from last week?"

"The ones of Murphy completely soaked in bath water? Yeah. Not as good as Maya's, though, those ones she took of Jasper playing peek-a-boo with Quin while they were babysitting. Just because Jasper was wearing those absurd goggles."

The conversation takes a long, wide detour through most of the rest of the building before finally circling back to the original argument just as the kids in question decide they're done with the swings and move on to the slides.

Ellie practically launches herself down the slides, although when she and Jamie get to the straight double-slide, Jamie gets nervous. Ellie puts a hand on his face and says something, and he nods, and then she holds his hand when they slide down to Wick and Bellamy.

"Oh, my god," Raven says. "Okay. I lied. You win this round, Griffin."

Clarke gets a text after dinner from Raven, just a picture of Jamie and Wick, both covered in spaghetti sauce, big stupid grins on their faces. Clarke texts back a question mark; Raven's only explanation is _my kid is cuter than yours_.

Except that Ellie's running around the house completely naked save for a purple tutu and one sock, and Clarke's pretty sure her kid is the cutest.


	74. Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Clarke take the kids to the zoo.

Raven spends the entire week before the trip to the zoo showing Jamie YouTube videos of zoo animals and reading books about zoo animals and watching movies about going to the zoo, in the hopes that when they get to the zoo on Saturday, Jamie won't cry himself sick. He's doing so well, becoming friends with Ellie, getting comfortable with other tenants in the building, and Raven doesn't want to suddenly set him back.

Ellie chats Jamie up the entire way to the zoo, showing him her plastic zoo animals and telling him what each one is. He just watches her while she talks, and takes each animal she hands him, until his lap is full of tiny fake animals.

At least one of the kids is excited.

The zoo is fenced up in such a way that it's impossible to really see any of it from the parking lot, but they take the kids in when Ellie's done whining about having to leave every single one of her toys in the car. Inside the gate, they make a beeline for the penguins, skipping over the jungle cats and monkeys and the reptile hall and starting with one of the least terrifying animals in the zoo.

Jamie won't go near the window. He just shakes his head and clings to Raven's leg. "I'll go with you," Raven offers. "We came to the zoo to see the zoo animals, didn't we?"

"Come on!" Ellie squeaks. "You wanna hol' my han'? 'S just penguins."

Jamie shakes his head, and Ellie says to Clarke, "He don't wanna see penguins, Mommy. Can we see somepin else?"

"Sure. What do you want to see?"

Ellie repeats the question to Jamie, who just shrugs. She puts her hand in front of her mouth and pinches her fingers like a beak. "Bird bird bird? Peep peep!"

Jamie just hides his face in Raven's leg, and Raven sighs. If they go anywhere near the lions or tigers or bears, Jamie's going to lose it.

"Ellie," Clarke says, crouching down to Ellie's eye level. "I think Jamie's afraid of the animals. Maybe you could look at them and tell him about them. Do you want to do that?"

Ellie nods. "I wanna tell about 'em penguins."

"Sounds like a good plan."

So that's how they get through the small animals; by the time they get to the flamingos, Jamie's craning his neck curiously to see what all the fuss is about before Ellie can come back and tell him about the weird pink birds that sleep standing on one leg.

"Mommy, hol' my han'!" Ellie says, and when she's got a firm grip on Clarke's finger, she lifts one foot off the ground. "They stan' like this an' sleeps!" She giggles, and Jamie looks around Raven's legs at the flamingos. He pats her knee and points to the flamingo pen.

"You want to go see?" she asks, and he nods.

They get through the next set of animals that way, and by the time they get to the big animals, Jamie's only holding Raven's hand when he follows Ellie up to the fence. He stares at the animals, and at Ellie as she tells him everything she knows about the animals (which isn't much, but it's cute anyway).

They get through everything but the reptile hall and the bug room by lunchtime, and Jamie's showing signs of needing a break. Ellie seems unaffected by all the excitement, until Clarke tells her that, no, she can't have a hot dog _and_ a corn dog. Jamie's content to eat his cheesy fries, but he keeps looking sideways at Ellie while she cries.

He offers her a fry, albeit one without any of his precious cheese on it, and she screams a loud _no_ in his face.

"Aurelia Daphne Blake," Clarke says. "That was _not_ nice. You need to apologize to Jamie."

"NO!" she shouts at Clarke.

"If you continue to throw a fit, we won't go to the bug room after lunch."

Ellie crosses her arms over her chest and blows a big, angry raspberry.

"That's one strike," Clarke says. "Please apologize to Jamie."

Ellie blows a raspberry again.

"That's two strikes. One more strike and we won't go to the bug room today."

"NO! I WANNA GO TO THE BUGS ROOM!" Ellie shouts.

"That's three strikes, Aurelia," Clarke says. "That means we can't go to the bug room."

Ellie cries some more, until the man at the concession stand calls Clarke's name and Clarke comes back with a corn dog, a hot dog, and fries. Food, of course, is Ellie's trump card, and she's done with her tantrum the second Clarke slides the corn dog in front of her.

Jamie's been watching the whole exchange from his seat on Raven's lap, slowly eating fry after fry, and periodically wiping his hands on a napkin.

"I think this one's about done anyway," Raven says, nodding to the boy in her lap.

"I'm surprised he wasn't done when we walked in."

"Yeah, me too." Raven smooths Jamie's hair. "You did good today, buddy," she tells him. "I'm very proud of you for looking at the animals, even though sometimes they're scary. Did you have fun?"

Jamie nods.

"Good. I'm glad you had fun."

Ellie falls asleep on the way home, but Jamie sorts through all of the animal toys until he finds the giraffe. He holds it out to Raven, even though she's driving.

"I can't take the giraffe right this second, buddy. I have to drive the car. Is that your favorite one?" she asks. Jamie shakes his head and holds up the elephant, by far the biggest animal in the zoo. "The elephant is your favorite?"

Jamie nods.

That the biggest thing in the zoo is Jamie's favorite baffles Raven for months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus high five for anyone who figures out why jamie's favorite is the elephant.


	75. Squirrel Snack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke watches Jamie to give Raven and Wick some grown-up time.

It takes a while, but eventually Jamie is comfortable enough with Clarke and Bellamy and Ellie that he doesn't mind spending a few hours at Clarke's apartment or Bellamy's while Raven and Wick have some time to themselves—and he doesn't mind having Ellie over when Clarke and Bellamy need an hour or two.

Clarke thinks it's actually easier to take care of two toddlers than it is to take care of just one, because she's gotten the entire kitchen sparkly clean and Ellie and Jamie are still in Ellie's room playing by themselves; all Clarke has to do is check on them periodically to make sure they're not about to burn the house down or jump off of the dresser or something.

She's on her way to see if they want a snack, but before she can poke her head in, she hears a timid voice murmuring a response to Ellie's question.

Jamie's talking.

She hides in the hallway, out of sight, and hopes she hasn't already been noticed. Carefully, she pulls her phone out of her pocket and opens up the voice recorder, hoping it'll pick up Jamie's quiet voice.

The app makes a noise when she turns the microphone on, though, and Jamie stops talking mid-sentence. Since she's been found out, she pokes her head into Ellie's room. "Are you two having fun?"

Jamie looks up at Clarke, and she swears he looks like both of his adoptive parents.

"Yeah!" Ellie squeaks. "Playin' aminals! I'mma g'raffe, an' he's a e'phant."

"Wow. Sounds like you're having a lot of fun in here. Do you want a snack?"

Ellie nods. "Yes-pease!"

"Do you want a bunny snack or a squirrel snack?"

"Um... swirl snack!"

"Squirrel snack it is." Clarke goes into the kitchen and gets out some grapes and a couple of sippy cups of water, Ellie's "squirrel snack."

Ellie comes out of her room, Jamie at her heels and a giraffe in her hand, and Clarke points them to the dining room table. "There's your squirrel snack," Clarke says. "Have you showed Jamie how to do the squirrel snack?"

"Lookit me," Ellie tells Jamie. She puts a grape in her mouth and holds it in her cheek.

Jamie mimics her, and Ellie giggles.

"Good job!" Clarke sits at one of the chairs and pulls out her phone to text Raven.

_I know you're busy but did you know your kid talks?_

The three little dots that say Raven's writing a reply appear almost instantly, and sit there for a long minute before Raven's message pops up. _Jamie?_

_Do you have another kid? Yes, Jamie. I heard him talking to Ellie. He stopped when I walked in, of course._

Raven's little dots take longer to appear, but are only on the screen for a few seconds. _Yeah, he does that._

"Mommy, who you tex'in'?" Ellie asks.

"I'm texting Raven, baby." _He won't talk to you?_

"Her's done wif her grown-ups stuff?"

"I don't know yet. She might be."

_Nah. Probably talks to Ellie because she's not a grown-up. Don't mention it, though. I don't think we're supposed to know about it._

"Her's gonna get Jamie?" Ellie asks.

"I'll ask, okay?" _I won't. Ellie wants to know if you're done with your grown-up stuff and if you're going to take her friend away._

"We havin' fun!" Ellie whines.

"Aurelia, please use your big girl voice. I know you're having fun, but if it's time for Jamie to go, then you'll have to say goodbye, and you'll see him another day."

_Uh, yeah. He's got an appointment at three._

"Mommy." Ellie has her Very Serious Face on, her little hands on her hips. "Me and Jamie havin' fun."

 _I'll bring him over._ "I know you are, but it's time for Jamie to go. Do you want to walk over to Raven's with us, or shall I go with Jamie by myself?"

"No, I wanna!" Ellie gets down from the table, and Jamie follows. Clarke gets up and opens the door, but when she tries to walk across the landing, too, Ellie pushes on her leg. "Not you!"

"You want to walk Jamie over to his house by yourself?"

Ellie nods. "You 'tay here."

"Okay, I'll stay here. Remember to knock on the door, okay? Don't just walk in."

Ellie walks over to Raven's with Jamie and knocks on the door. When Wick opens the door, Jamie waves at Ellie and goes in; Ellie waves until the door closes, and then she runs back to Clarke. "I did it, Mommy!"

"You did a very good job. Thank you for not having a tantrum about Jamie leaving."

Clarke helps Ellie clean up the toys in her room and then puts on Netflix for half an hour until Bellamy gets home. She should really be working on work stuff, but she gets distracted trying to figure out how to turn off the noise that her phone makes when she starts up the microphone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updates are probably gonna be less than daily for a while; real life be cray


	76. Mortal Terror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy finally gets around to talking to Clarke's mom.

Bellamy's never been this nervous in his life. He wasn't even this nervous the first time they went to Abby's house for dinner. He lets Aurelia ring the doorbell, and tries to remember how to breathe when he hands her off to Abby. Marcus isn't joining them tonight, Abby says, because he's having dinner with his mother.

Aurelia tries to stack her chicken into a lopsided house, with broccoli trees around it, and Bellamy has to tell her twice not to play with her food or make art with her food during dinner time. He's very glad that Abby, unlike his own mother, doesn't try to tell him he's "squashing her creativity." At least while he's there, Abby defers to his and Clarke's parenting decisions. (Well, for the most part; she still insists on letting Aurelia have a bigger-than-usual helping of sorbet for dessert.)

It's Clarke's turn to bathe Aurelia after dinner, so Bellamy offers to help clean up the table. He loves Clarke, and Abby's easily Aurelia's favorite grandma, but that doesn't mean Bellamy is any less mortally terrified of what he's got to do tonight. (He's _got_ to, because he and Clarke have a date on Friday.)

He waits until the whole table's clear and Abby's drying the last plate. He means to go about it calmly, to be sincere but collected, and instead it comes out all in a rush. "Um, Abby? I... Iwanttomarryyourdaughter." He clears his throat. "I mean, I'd like your blessing."

Abby looks at him, one hand on the counter and the other on her hip. "Good. About damn time."

He should really know better by now than to be surprised, but he still has to consciously close his mouth and focus on the towel he's drying his hands with. "Uh, we—we have a date on Friday, and—"

"She told me. Have you asked your daughter?"

"Aurelia?" Bellamy shrugs. "We talked about it, but I don't think she understands what it means for her. Nothing's really going to change much. Not for her, anyway."

"Oh, it will."

He doesn't get to ask her what she means, though, because that's when Clarke and Aurelia come back from bathtime. He gets the bag and Clarke gets Aurelia and Bellamy sees her exchange pointed looks with her mother, and then Abby's waving goodbye at them from the porch while Aurelia tries to use Clarke as a walking jungle gym.


	77. Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy finally get a date night after weeks of almost no adult time.

Clarke pushes a noodle around her plate, listening to Bellamy's story about Ellie's monster-drawing shenanigans. She's been working a lot the last two weeks on a massive project that ate every minute of her spare time, but it's finally done and over with, and Bellamy's finally getting the date night he's been antsing about for weeks.

"I can't believe I've been missing stuff," Clarke complains, and she can feel herself getting teary-eyed about it; she blinks furiously and hides behind her water glass.

Bellamy reaches across the table and lays his hand on hers. "Clarke," he says, chuckling a little at her reaction, "it's okay. It's just doodling; she'll be doodling the rest of her life, I'm sure."

"I know. I just feel bad about being so distant the last couple of weeks, with work and stuff. I didn't get to hang out with her much."

Bellamy rubs her hand with his thumb. "She's old enough to understand, and it's not like you were totally absent. Besides, she's been having tons of fun at day care and with Jamie. Don't worry about it, okay?"

"Yeah." Clarke nods. "And I'm sorry it took so long to go on this date. I just haven't been feeling great."

"Hey." Bellamy puts his other hand on hers, too. "I have something that I think will make you feel better," he says. "Close your eyes."

She does, and his warm hands leave hers. She hears some rustling, and then there's a tap on her arm and when she opens her eyes, he's next to the table, on one knee, with a little black velvet box in his hands.

"Clarke Griffin, will you marry me?" he asks, opening the box to reveal an elegant ring set with a series of little stones.

She knew this was coming, because they've talked about it dozens of times, but her vision is still fuzzy with tears and she nods. "Yes. Hell yes."

Bellamy gets up and puts the ring on her finger—it fits perfectly, and she loves that it's flat and unobtrusive—and kisses her sweetly. He goes to sit back down in his seat, but she keeps a hold on his hand.

"I've got something for you, too," she says. Her mouth is dry and she feels a little queasy, even though there's no good reason for her to be nervous. Maybe it's the morning sickness, because goodness knows it'll hit her at any hour of the day.

"Oh?" he prompts.

"But you have to wait about seven months."

Bellamy frowns, like he thinks she's playing with him. _Penny in the air_ , she thinks, and watches him as he considers what she said. She sees the moment he realizes that seven months is pretty specific, and the moment that he realizes what that seven months could possibly mean, and then the moment when the penny drops. "You're serious?" he breathes. "You're—holy shit."

Clarke laughs. "Yeah."

He looks at her plate, which she's barely touched, and at the cup of water that she's been sipping on all night, and he squeezes her fingers. "How are you feeling?" he asks, all seriousness and gravity.

"I'm okay. I just don't have much of an appetite right now."

He pulls her hand toward him and presses his lips to her fingers. "A baby," he says, grinning, and then she sees the tears shining in his eyes.

"Are _you_ okay?" she asks.

He nods, and wipes at his eyes (she's _not_ going to cry just because he's crying). "I'm going to _be here_ for this one," he says; he hadn't known about Ellie before her birth, hadn't even had the opportunity to be there when she was born. They don't talk much about Amber or about Ellie's first week, but now she knows he would have done everything in his power to be there if only he had known.

"Hell yeah, you are," Clarke tells him, because she is _not_ going to have it any other way.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asks, his voice low.

"Can we get some Sprite on the way home?"

He laughs and kisses her hand again. "Anything for you, princess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand cue bellamy "are u ok are u sure ur ok is everything ok can i get u anything what do u need please let me take care of u" blake
> 
> also, yay, chaos ensues (for about 22 chapters whee)


	78. Elephantine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy talk about moving.

Bellamy has never been this happy in his life. It's long past bedtime, and he has to work in the morning, but he's just content to lay here in bed next to his princess—his fiancée. He's trying to feel the difference in the shape of her stomach, but he's not a doctor and he doesn't really know what to feel for.

"Are you sure?" he asks her.

"For the hundredth time, _yes_." She threads her fingers through his on her stomach and presses between her hips. "I promise it's there. I've got the lab results in my file box."

"Two whole months, though?"

Clarke shrugs. "I didn't even suspect anything until a week and a half ago. It's not like I'm super regular or anything, and I haven't been sick. Just tired."

Bellamy buries his face in her shoulder. "Mm. A _baby_ , though." He's grinning like a moron and he can't help himself.

"Yeah. You know we're gonna have to find somewhere else to live, though, right?"

He blinks. He hadn't thought about it. She's right, of course—there's not enough room in one of these apartments for four people—but the prospect of _house-hunting_... "Yeah. Yeah, I guess we will."

"And preferably soon. As much as I love living here, I don't want to be packing up and moving when I'm all elephantine."

Bellamy laughs. "Elephantine? I don't think you're going to be quite that big, princess. Ever."

Clarke snorts. "Just you wait." She throws a leg over his and snuggles into his side. "But seriously, we need to be looking at other places to live, and soon."

Bellamy nods. "Okay." He wants so bad to ask her this next question, and he has the perfect segue, but he's hesitant to push his luck.

"What?" she asks.

"I just—I mean, I'd understand if you say no, because I know you like having your own space and everything, but since we're going to be looking for a house and we're going to have to buy diapers and stuff and kids are seriously expensive, I was just thinking that maybe you could move in here. For real, I mean. Officially. Quit paying rent on your place, let someone else move in."

"Yes," Clarke says immediately.

"That was... quick."

Clarke flushes. "I've been hoping you'd ask me that."

"Seriously? You could have told me."

"I thought you just didn't want to upset Ellie's routine."

Bellamy snorts. "You basically live here anyway. Besides, she's a kid. She'll either understand it and accept it, or she won't understand it and she'll get a little mixed up and then get over it." He runs his fingers over her back, up and down her spine the way she likes. "If I'd known that's what you wanted, I'd have asked you a long time ago."

"Well, you should at least ask your daughter."

"Yeah. I'll talk to her before I go to work. And maybe she'll help you move the rest of your stuff over."

"Sounds like a plan," Clarke says, kissing Bellamy's stubbly jaw. "I'm going to have to take over the dining room periodically, though, for work."

Bellamy squeezes her gently and kisses her lips. "Whatever you want, princess."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahaha why are these two losers so damn cute
> 
> i mean they could be discussing which model of microwave to buy and it would still be stupid cute
> 
> in other news MOVING CHAOS Y A Y


	79. Job Security

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Raven pack up Clarke's kitchen; Bellamy hates his job.

It's Raven's morning to stay home with Jamie while Wick works, so Clarke sets Jamie and Ellie up in her living room with activities and toys, and she and Raven work on packing up the kitchen and living room.

"Where are you going to put all this stuff?" Raven asks.

Clarke shrugs. "I don't know. I might put some of it in my mom's garage until we find a place. Or maybe we'll just set the stuff we don't want in the first-floor lobby with a big FREE sign and let everyone else take it away. I don't know."

"Well, I get first pick," Raven says. She wraps another mug and nestles it in a box next to a dozen others. "I still can't believe you didn't tell me you were pregnant. _And_ you're engaged. This building is going to run out of things to bet on."

Clarke laughs. "You could always bet on how long it's going to take us to find a place to live, or the gender and birthdate of the baby." She pauses. "Or you could, you know, not bet on my life events."

Raven snorts. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Mommy!" Ellie calls from the living room.

"I'm in the kitchen," Clarke calls back. "Please come in here to talk to me."

Ellie drags a teary-eyed Jamie into the kitchen with her. "Boo-boo, Mommy," she says.

"What happened?" Clarke asks.

Jamie puts his hand on his forehead.

Raven sets aside a half-wrapped mug and checks Jamie's forehead for actual damage, and then kisses it. "Looks like you're gonna live, buddy," she says. "Just be careful around those mean ol' tables, okay?"

Jamie nods and looks to Ellie like _let's go_ , and then they're gone again.

"How's he doing?" Clarke asks.

Raven nods. "Good. He still won't talk if he knows we're around, but I heard him singing to one of his sing-alongs the other day. He'll talk when he's ready, and then we probably won't ever get him to shut up."

"And Wick? I know his firm has been asking him to work a lot."

Raven shrugs. "We knew it wasn't going to be perfect; we both work, and we can't drop everything forever. Besides, I'm pretty sure we'd go insane if we both stayed home all the time." She tapes the top of the mug box and scrawls MUGS on the side. "But, yeah, he's been working a lot. It's okay, though. Just means I get to spend more time with my little man." Raven smiles. "We were gonna go to the lake this weekend. Do you guys want to come?"

"Probably. Saturday or Sunday?"

"Sunday, unless Bellamy managed to get his schedule changed."

Clarke sighs. "No, not yet. He's thinking about trying to find somewhere else, because the museum board won't give him Saturdays instead of Wednesdays off. I just—the museum's a pretty safe gig, you know?"

Raven gives Clarke a sympathetic look. "Yeah. I mean, I can imagine. I'm married to a guy who designs buildings for a living, so I'm not too familiar with the occupational hazards of a security guard. But you're worried. Makes sense."

Clarke wrangles a few more pot lids into the box in front of her. "Yeah." Thinking about Bellamy's line of work is _not_ her favorite pastime, but at least he's not an actual police officer. She'll take museum security guard over police officer any day.

He comes home from work late that night—somehow his boss roped him into staying until almost nine—and drops face-down into bed next to Clarke, who's already put Ellie to bed and is sitting against the headboard, sketching. "I hate my job," he mumbles into the pillow. "I hate it, I hate it, I hate it."

She puts her sketchbook on the nightstand and runs her fingers through his hair and over his back. "They won't change your schedule?" she asks.

"No." He sits up enough to strip off his uniform jacket and his t-shirt, and flings them against the wall. He lays back down, this time across Clarke's empty lap. She goes back to running her hands over his skin, digging her fingertips into the long, shallow river of his spine. "And they keep making me stay late." He loops one arm around her waist and kisses the exposed skin between the waist of her shorts and the hem of her sleep shirt. "I miss my girls."

Clarke pushes his hair out of his face. "If you hate it that much, quit. Go somewhere else."

"I can't just quit my job, Clarke. Not now."

"You _should_ quit now, if you're going to at all," she tells him. "Find something with better hours."

"And make a down payment on a _house_?"

Clarke snorts. "If it's finances you're worried about, you can stop right there. Or have you forgotten that my mom's been a surgeon for, like, twenty-five years?"

"We're not borrowing money from your mom," Bellamy says tersely.

"No, we're not." She's on the verge of a laughing fit, but she knows his upbringing was much different from hers, so she restrains herself. "It's _my_ money, my trust fund, for college and a house and whatever."

"Clarke," Bellamy groans. "Are you sure?"

"Am I sure I want to use my trust fund to buy a house so I can raise my kid and my stepdaughter with the man I love with all my heart? Uh, yeah. I'm pretty sure." She runs her fingers through her hair again. "Quit your job and find one you actually like, and let me take care of the boring stuff, okay?"

Bellamy pushes himself up to sitting. He kisses her deeply, grinning the whole time. "Whatever you want, princess," he says, but what he's really saying is _I love you_.

(She never gets tired of hearing him say it, no matter what words he uses.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i stared at this half-finished literally all day and then the end basically hit me in the face like a freight train so
> 
> (also she won't admit it but clarke hates bellamy's job, too)
> 
> ps i'm having an emotion and it's bellamy "whatever (the hell) you want, princess" blake


	80. Sketchbook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy finds one of Clarke's old sketchbooks buried in the coffee table.

Bellamy's packing up Clarke's living room while she and Aurelia play dress-up in Clarke's closet and make almost no headway on getting Clarke's bedroom packed. The coffee table is mostly full of old home and garden magazines, and a few architecture and design ones (those ones are all addressed to Raven). He drops them into a box until he gets to the bottom of the stack and finds a thin wire-bound book with plain, pressed-cardboard covers.

Clarke's never been shy about showing him her sketchbooks, so he doesn't think twice about flipping through it until he realizes that the half-naked body sketched across the first few pages is _him_. He ought to close the book and pack it away, probably, except he's very curious about what else is in the book. He gets a face, later, and a shirt, and at the end of the book, a little swaddled-up bundle of blankets held against his shoulder.

She's sketched him plenty in the time he's known her, but she's never shown him these. Bellamy drops the sketchbook in the box and goes into Clarke's room, where Aurelia's dressed up in Clarke's clothes. He sneaks up behind Clarke and wraps his arms around her middle. "Hey," he says quietly, right in her ear. "How's it going in here?"

Clarke leans into him. "Good."

"Mm, good." Bellamy drops a kiss behind her ear. "How long have you been sketching me?" he asks.

She tenses in his arms. "What?"

"You know, I remember thinking—when we met— _wow, she's gorgeous_. I remember wishing I had been nicer, and maybe had a shower, but I guess you didn't really mind much."

"Oh, my god. Bellamy Blake, were you snooping?" She elbows him in the ribs, pulling away enough to turn and look at him.

His arms drop to his sides and he gives her his best innocent-puppy face. "Oh, come on, Clarke. It's not like you've ever really been shy about your art. I thought it was going to be buildings or landscapes or flowers or something. I didn't know it was going to be half-naked sketches of me. I mean, it was buried in the coffee table under all those garden and architecture magazines."

Clarke frowns. "Was it a blue notebook?" she asks.

Bellamy's eyebrow slides up his forehead. "No," he says slowly, inching toward her. "Are you saying there are other books full of half-naked sketches of me?"

"I didn't say that," she defends immediately. "Which notebook are you talking about?" she asks.

He backs her slowly up against her highboy dresser. "Guess again."

She glares at him, immediately aware of his game. "I'd rather not admit how many sketches I have of you." She tries to escape, but he puts an arm on either side of her and grins wickedly.

He doesn't know what he plans to do, but he doesn't get to find out because Aurelia decides she's been deprived of the center of attention for too long.

"Daddy, lookimee!" She puts her arms out to show him the shirt she's wearing as a dress, along with the big faux-pearl necklace and the shoes. "Imma wear Mommy's shirt! Anna neck'ace! Imma dress up aw p'itty!"

Bellamy laughs, drops a quick kiss on Clarke's lips as a promise that they'll continue their conversation later, and turns his full attention to his toddler. "You look very pretty, little princess. Did you pick those out all by yourself?"

"No," Aurelia giggles. "Mommy getted 'em for me."

"Well, they're very lovely. Would you like to wear them to the kitchen for a snack?"

Aurelia, his little food-fanatic princess, gasps and grins. "Yeah!"

"Alright, awesome! After you, little princess." He flashes Clarke a smile. "I'll leave you to your work for a while," he says. "We'll be back in a bit."

"Mm-hmm," Clarke hums, and turns back to her dresser.

(Bellamy puts his interrogating skills to use later, and finds out she's got at least four notebooks with sketches of him that he didn't previously know about.)


	81. Tornado Warning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow it's been a while  
> i swear i'm trying to get this damn thing finished  
> it's just taking a while because real life happens  
> (how inconvenient)  
> anyway hopefully i won't leave y'all hanging for another week  
> still 19 chapters after this, so i don't think i can really afford week-long breaks in between chapters

Of course, the day Clarke turns in her keys is the day Ellie begs to go to Mommy's house and play with finger-paints. Clarke can't even set up the finger paints in Bellamy's kitchen—their kitchen—because there's no room to move the table with all the boxes all over it.

Ellie's been going napless for a few weeks now, and she's been doing pretty well, but all the excitement of moving has seriously worn her out. Bellamy's out at an interview for a part-time bartender job, something he did before he was a security guard, so Clarke makes the decision to put Ellie down for a nap.

Clarke texts Bellamy _We'll be napping when you get back_ , and then says to Ellie, "Ellie, baby, will you come to my nap with me?"

"You gotsta go to you nap?"

"Yeah, baby. I'm _really_ sleepy." Clarke's fake yawn turns into a real one, and even though it's supposed to be a ploy to get Ellie to take a nap, Clarke's probably going to fall asleep, too. "Will you come with me?"

"But I 'anna finger paints!"

"We can finger paint later, maybe, after snack time." Clarke curls up on the couch like she's going to go to sleep right there.

"No! Don't take you nap here! Naps inna bed!"

"Oh," Clarke says sleepily. "Okay. Can you help me, please? I'm very sleepy."

Ellie growls, annoyed, but she pulls on Clarke's hand and drags her down the hall to the big bed anyway. Clarke lays down on the bed, and Ellie climbs up and lays down next to her. "You can have a li'l nap, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you." Clarke wraps an arm around Ellie, and in five minutes, they're both out cold.

Clarke wakes up to Ellie dead asleep on one side and Bellamy climbing onto the bed on the other side. "Hey," he whispers when he sees she's awake.

"Hey," she mumbles sleepily. "How was it?"

"Not bad, considering Miller's dad owns the place, which I didn't realize until I was talking to him. How was your nap?"

Clarke looks at the clock. It's only been half an hour, but she feels much better anyway. "Short," she says. "But this one's going to sleep a while longer."

"Was she good today?"

Clarke shrugs. "I had to tell her we couldn't finger paint at my house, and that didn't go over well." She yawns. "Didn't fight the nap much, though. Took about five minutes for her to fall asleep. Maybe less."

"Good. All this moving's got her all riled up."

"I know. Maybe we ought to wait a week before we tell her about the baby."

Bellamy nods. "Yeah, or we could tell her now and get it all over with quick, like a band-aid."

"Mm. You have a point." She yawns again. "Maybe we should figure it out after nap time, though."

Bellamy smiles and scoots a little closer. "Whatever you want, princess."

(They tell her after snack time, and when she finally figures out what it means, she becomes a shrieking, giddy tornado.)


	82. Grapes of Wrath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aurelia wants to share her grapes with the baby.

"Mommy, here! A grape!" Aurelia puts one of her grapes in front of Clarke with a grin.

Clarke puts the grape back on Aurelia's plate. "You eat it, baby girl. You've shared plenty of grapes with me, and I'm getting kinda full."

"No, this one's not for you!" Aurelia scowls and puts the grape back in front of Clarke. "It's for the baby!"

"Oh, well, the baby's not big enough to eat grapes yet."

"But I wanna give it to the baby!" Aurelia whines.

"Aurelia," Bellamy warns. Ever since they told her about the baby, she's been either a complete angel or a screaming terror. Today's been mostly the latter, and he can sense another tantrum coming. "If you're finished with your grapes, you can put the rest on the counter by the sink."

"No, I wanna share wif the baby!" She screeches the last word, and then bursts into tears.

"That's enough," he says. "Either you can take a deep breath and calm down, or you can go to your room and have a time-out."

"I WANNA SHARE!"

Bellamy nods to Clarke, who gets up and takes the grapes into the kitchen. "One," he counts.

Aurelia stands up on her chair and keeps screaming.

"Two," Bellamy says.

She stamps a foot and screams _no_ as loud as she can.

"Three."

Her tantrum keeps on raging, so Bellamy picks her up off the chair and takes her to her room. "Come out when you're done crying," he says, and then he leaves her to her tantrum. He goes back to the kitchen and finds Clarke staring at the grapes.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I just... what if she hates the baby? I mean, I know we're trying to prepare her and everything, but what if she doesn't _like_ the baby?"

Somewhere not so deep down, he has the same fears, but he knows that once everything settles, they'll be okay. He takes her hands and pulls her closer. "It's going to be okay, I promise. Aurelia's not going to hate the baby. She's just overexcited and probably a little confused. It's a big new thing that's happening, and when everything settles, she'll be totally fine."

He hears the patter of Aurelia's little feet on the floor, and when she appears in the kitchen, he says, "Are you finished?"

She sniffles and rubs her eye with her knuckles. "Yeah. Can I give Mommy a grape for the baby?" she asks.

"How about you play for a while, and later, you can help make some good food for dinner?" Bellamy says. It's his turn to cook anyway, and maybe if she helps him cook "for the baby," she won't feel the need to keep giving her food to Clarke.

Aurelia nods. "Okay." She turns around and trudges into the living room to dig out a toy at the very bottom of the bin and then play with everything else.

(At bedtime, Aurelia's back to being a little angel, kissing Clarke's belly and saying goodnight to the baby before she says goodnight to either of the grown-ups.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i swear i'm going to write actual content plot stuff one of these days
> 
> meanwhile have useless, tooth-rotting fluff


	83. House Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke and Bellamy look at houses.

"Bellamy," Clarke says when the realtor gives them a few minutes alone in the newly-remodeled kitchen. "This isn't the house."

"Why not? It's got space for a studio, and the yard is already fenced."

"Bellamy, the bedrooms are all upstairs, except the master. We can't have the nursery on a different _floor_. I'm not walking up all those stairs in the middle of the night."

"So we'll keep the crib in our room for a while."

Clarke shakes her head. "No way."

Bellamy sighs. "This is the fifth house we've looked at, and none of them have been good enough."

"I don't want to settle for something that doesn't work for us."

"You know, at this rate, it might be easier to just build one," Bellamy says.

"Well, we don't have time for that," Clarke tells him. "We have to be settled _before_ the baby comes."

"We've got five months. We'll find something." He kisses her forehead, and she follows him out to the front yard. "I don't think this one's it either," he tells the realtor. "Having the nursery on a different floor isn't too good for us. If we had older kids, maybe. Thanks for letting us see it, though."

"Of course." The realtor checks a few things off on a clipboard. "That's all I've got for you today, but I'll see if I can't find something more to your liking and call you next week."

"Thank you. If you find something sooner, don't hesitate to call," Clarke says.

"Oh, of course." The realtor gives Clarke and Bellamy a smile and locks up the house behind them.

"It was a pretty nice house, though," Bellamy says when they're in the car.

"Except for the glaring issue with the bedrooms, yeah," Clarke agrees. "I mean, I get that it's hard to get so many bedrooms on one floor and have all the other stuff below it, but I wouldn't be averse to a bedroom over the garage or something. Or a single-story."

"Not many of those around here, though."

"Yeah, I guess. The ones we've seen have been way too small, too." Clarke leans against the window and huffs. "I don't want to have to settle for something that only mostly works for us, but we have to find something and move in before the baby's born."

Bellamy reaches over and settles a hand on her jeans. "We'll find something, Clarke, and we'll find it in plenty of time to get moved and settled."

"Yeah, but what if we don't? I mean, it wouldn't be _that_ bad to live somewhere for a while and then move again later. Would it?"

"You don't want to do that, princess. You said you wanted to find one place to live in for a good long while, and that's what we're going to do."

Clarke stares at the road. "Yeah." She rests a hand on Bellamy's and breathes deeply. "Yeah, okay."

(The next dozen houses they look at aren't right, either.)


	84. Squiggle

Bellamy rinses the last of the shaving cream off his chin and listens to Clarke try to get Aurelia ready to leave. "Come on, Ellie-girl. Get your shoes on."

He doesn't have to look to know Aurelia's holding up a foot and a shoe. "This one?"

"Yes, baby," Clarke tells her. "That's the one."

And, of course, Aurelia switches feet and asks again.

"No, you—oh, it doesn't matter, baby. Just put your shoes on and we'll worry about feet later. Don't you want to go see the baby?"

"Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah!" Aurelia squeals and Bellamy comes into the living room, pulling a shirt over his head, to find his daughter clumsily sticking Velcro together. Her shoes are, of course, on the wrong feet, but if she's not complaining, Bellamy's not going to either. "Sooes! I got sooes! Daddy, sooes!"

"And they're very good shoes, little princess." He jams his own shoes on. "Alright, all ready to go."

"Did you really have to shave for this?" Clarke asks. "You do know the baby's not going to see you, right?"

"I know, I know." He waves a hand dismissively. "Come on, princess and peas. We don't want to be late."

He scoops up Aurelia and carries her down the stairs. "Daddy, I 'anna walk!"

"You can walk up the stairs when we get back, okay? We have to go to the doctor so we can see pictures of the baby."

"No! No! No dot-ter! I don't wanna!"

"Not  _ your _ doctor, silly. The baby's doctor."

"Mommy's dot-ter?"

Bellamy pulls open the truck door and nods. "Yep. Come on, in you go." He gets Aurelia into her carseat with the ease of much practice, and lets Clarke handle the buckles while he starts the engine up.

Aurelia fidgets the whole time they're in the lobby, and it's all Clarke and Bellamy can do to keep her occupied. The nurse helps during Clarke's check-up by distracting Aurelia with the choose-a-sticker box. When the tech finally gets a decent shot of the baby, Bellamy points and tells Aurelia, "See? There's the baby's head, and hands, and feet."

"Daddy," Aurelia says matter-of-factly. "Das not the baby." She waves her hands in the air. "Issa squiggle."

Clarke laughs hard enough to jostle the camera, and when the tech recovers the picture, it's a clean shot of the appendage tucked between the baby's legs. Even though he's seen the baby at least four times already, Bellamy still feels his eyes get all watery, so he jokes, "What do you know, princess? It's a  _ boy _ squiggle."


	85. Station Conductor

Bellamy yanks off his tie the second he gets in the door. "She napping?" he asks Clarke.

"Mm, definitely," Clarke says from her spread-eagled position on the living room floor. "How'd it go?"

Bellamy answers with a wet raspberry. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. I just like this floor. That club downtown called. They want you to call back as soon as you can."

"The Station?"

"That's the one."

"Huh." Bellamy pulls off his button-down and heads into the bedroom to put on jeans and a t-shirt while he calls the Station's manager and owner. "Hi, this is Bellamy Blake. I'm looking for—"

"Bellamy!" exclaims the boisterous voice on the other end. "Thank my lucky stars you called. Listen, I need a guy to cover the bar with me tonight. If you impress me, I'll give you the job permanently."

Bellamy tugs his shirt on over his head. "Uh, yeah. Yeah. Definitely. What time?"

"Can you be here around four?"

"Yeah, sure. Dress code?"

"Dark shirt, something plain that won't show spills too easy. Jeans. Other than that, whatever's comfortable."

"Okay, I'll be there." Bellamy hangs up and dances into the kitchen.

"Good news?" Clarke asks from the floor.

Bellamy hops down to the floor and kisses her quickly. "You're looking at the Station's newest conductor, milady."

"Bartender? That's more like an engineer, really."

"Okay, fine. Station cocktail engineer, at your service."

"Well, I really should stay off the cocktails, at least until this is over." Clarke gestures to her belly.

"I make a mean virgin cocktail."

"According to my doctor, I'm not a virgin."

Bellamy laughs. "Alright, princess." He kisses her again. "I have to be there at four. You think you can hold the fort tonight?"

"Oh, I think I can handle myself."


	86. Halloween

It's the last house on their route, and Clarke is beat. Ellie's still going strong, but it's only a matter of time—minutes, really—before her sugar rush becomes a sugar crash and she starts wailing about god knows what.

"Chicker chee!" Ellie squeals when a middle-aged, orange-sweatered man opens the door. She twirls and grins. "I'na bunnerfy!"

"Oh, and such a pretty butterfly, too. You have such a nice shade of blue in your wings. Would you like a treat?"

"Yes, peas!" Ellie holds out the little flower-painted bucket, and the man drops a few chocolates into it. "Tankoo!"

"And you, young man?" he asks Jamie.

He's been getting less shy with each house, and this time he says his bit without hiding behind Raven first. "Dese aren't da treats you're wookin' for," he says quietly, waving his hand.

The man in orange affects a blank stare. "These aren't the treats I'm looking for," he says as he drops a few into Jamie's outstretched, droid-painted pail.

"Thanks!" Jamie squeaks, and runs to hide behind Raven.

"Thank you," Clarke and Raven chorus as Ellie and Jamie drag them away. The man in orange waves and closes the door.

"Well, that was fun. Shall we go home and eat some candy before bedtime?" Clarke asks.

Despite all their excited jumping up and down, both Ellie and Jamie are out cold by the time the car pulls into the parking garage.


	87. Tangled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke tie the knot, and get a little tangled up.

He is so goddamned nervous.

He really shouldn't be nervous. There's nothing to be nervous about. He's got his vows practiced to the letter, and his hair is actually pretty damn close to tamed. But no matter how many times or how many ways he tells himself to calm the hell down, he still fiddles with his tie.

"Bell, quit playing with your damn tie. It's go time."

Bellamy nods and follows Octavia out to Dr. Griffin's backyard. Everybody's already seated, and Bellamy makes his way to the two Grecian pillars at the end of the aisle. Kane is already there, holding a beat-up leather journal while Dr. Griffin adjusts the small mic on his lapel.

"Abby, just leave it. It's fine."

"I just don't want it to—oh. Bellamy." She brushes Kane's lapels. "I guess that means it's showtime." Bellamy offers her his hand, and although she is perfectly capable of walking the ten feet to her chair, she lets Bellamy walk her there anyway.

He gives her a bow before he goes back to his place and tries not to bounce on his heels. Music starts, and it's absolute  _ agony _ waiting for the bridal party (all two pair of them) to walk down the aisle to their places. Jamie and Ellie walk down together—Jamie in his little bow-tie with his ring pillow, and Ellie in her pale green dress with her white flower petals that she is definitely forgetting to throw as she walks. She remembers when she gets to the end of the aisle, and looks to Bellamy, wide-eyed.

He nods. "You can still throw your petals," he says. "Go for it."

Ellie turns and throws the entire basket as far as her little arms will heave it, which is about two and a half feet, and then she runs and hides behind Bellamy's legs, mortified. Everyone laughs, especially Bellamy. 

"You did good, kid," he says as the music changes. "Go sit with Nana Abby, okay?"

Ellie nods and scampers down to her seat next to Abby, and when Bellamy looks down to the other end of the aisle, his first thought is,  _ Aw, fuck _ .

"Jesus," he croaks, wiping a sleeve over his face.

Clarke's beaming, and she looks like a fucking Greek goddess in her white, empire-waisted dress. It curves gently over her belly and flows out behind her. Her hair is up in a braided crown and she's got laurels perched on top. She'd asked Jaha to walk her down the aisle, being her father's closest friend, and he'd really put effort into cleaning himself up. His gray beard is neatly trimmed, his suit is pressed, and his shoes have been shined. He has a pair of laurels in his hair as well, and he walks as though they're going to fall off any second.

By the time Clarke gets down the aisle, Bellamy's stopped trying to wipe off his face. Clarke hands her bouquet to Raven and turns to Jaha. He stoops so she can reach the laurels, and when she takes them from him, she gives him a kiss on the cheek.

Bellamy kneels in front of her and she puts the laurels on his head, nestling them in his hair. He stands and takes her hand, and he can't help but mirror her gorgeous grin. He muddles through the vows, and when Kane pronounces them husband and wife, Bellamy doesn't wait for the "kiss the bride"—he kisses Clarke with the gusto of all the kisses he hasn't been able to give her all day. "Finally," he mutters into her lips.

All their friends and family are cheering wildly, and they start to turn toward the aisle, only to find that their laurels have gotten tangled together.

Bellamy laughs as Clarke pries the circlets apart. "I guess we're really stuck together now."

Clarke grins and squeezes his hand. "I guess so."


	88. Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby loses the grandkids in a game of hide and seek.

Abby's supposed to be in charge of making sure the kids get something to eat, and for most of dinner, it goes pretty well. Raven tries not to check too often, because she knows that even if Abby can't contain both kids, Kane's always eager to help. They're nearing dessert, though, and Raven hasn't seen Abby or the kids in a while. Kane's gone, too, and while Raven had assumed somebody had to pee, it's been way,  _ way _ longer than a potty break by now.

"Raven," Abby murmurs from behind her. "I don't mean to alarm you, but your son and my granddaughter are currently beating me at hide and seek."

Raven glances at Clarke, who's having an animated conversation with Monroe about Quin's adorable little dress. She knows that Jamie is the king of hide and seek, and Ellie can fit just about anywhere. "Oh, great. Alright, I'll come help you find them." She touches Clarke on the shoulder and says she'll be right back. Clarke nods and smiles.

She starts near the house and works her way around the yard, checking behind chairs and under tables. She's about to go check inside the house when she notices handprints in the cake. Below the cake is a bit of frosting on the hem of the tablecloth, and when she crouches, she hears little whispers and giggles from under the cake table.

"I found you!" Raven says, and lifts up the tablecloth.

Jamie and Ellie shriek in surprise. Both of their faces are covered in frosting and she can't even bring herself to be a little bit mad because they just look so cute together, hiding under the table, licking frosting off their fingers, and giggling.

(It doesn't hurt that the sugar crash has them out cold in Abby's guest room an hour later.)


	89. Honeymoon

They don't have a long honeymoon, but the three days they get to spend at the beach are fantastic. Lazy mornings, afternoons in the sun, and evenings out. On the third night, they come back from a modern art museum and flip through the hotel's TV channels.

Bellamy's brushing his teeth when he hears Clarke squeal, "Ooh, ooh! They've got  _ Dead Poets Society _ on! And it just started!"

"They've got what?" he asks through a mouthful of toothpaste.

" _ Dead Poets Society _ ," Clarke repeats.

Bellamy shrugs.

"Robin Williams? Teaching a whole bunch of teenage boys about poetry?"

Bellamy just tries to look as baffled as he feels.

"'Oh, Captain, my Captain'? Seriously? You mean you've never seen  _ Dead Poets Society _ ?"

He spits and rinses. "Never even heard of it."

Clarke scoffs in disbelief and beckons imperiously. "Sit your ass down. We are watching this movie. Right now."

Bellamy stretches out on the bed next to her. "Whatever you want, princess."

(Clarke's passed out long before the end of the movie, which is good; she doesn't see him wiping his eyes at the end.)


	90. Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven is convinced her betting pools are the only reason anything gets done at 100 Ark Street.

The fifth-floor Christmas party blows the previous year’s party out of the water. Clarke’s pretty sure Lincoln must have spent half the year making the decorations, which are absolutely masterful. Octavia and the new tenant tag-teamed on the finger foods, and Lincoln lent an artistic hand with the pastries. Jasper gleefully collected more kinds of booze than Clarke knew existed; she was a bit dismayed that she’d have to stick to the kiddie drinks this year.

There’s quite a bit less drama at this year’s party than Clarke is accustomed to, although there’s no shortage of kisses under artfully-hung sprigs of mistletoe. Some of the men, Bellamy included, fall into a heated discussion over something Clarke isn’t familiar with. Mrs. Sinclair coos over Ellie and Jamie and Quin, until Ellie and Jamie go hide under a table in Octavia and Lincoln’s apartment. Monroe and Murphy make goo-goo eyes at each other over their drinks, and Raven makes subtle noises of disgust in Clarke’s ear.

“Oh, you know you do it, too. We are  _ all _ guilty here.”

“Except the new gal, and Emori.”

“Right.” Clarke glances at Emori’s mild-mannered brother, who is sneaking glances at the smiling young woman in the red dress. “Otan, though...”

“God, don’t even get me started.” Raven shook her head. “If this gets any worse, I might start a bet on how long it takes her to notice him as anything more than a blinking fichus.”

Clarke snorted. “You and your bets.”

“Look, it works, alright? I start a betting pool, word gets around to Otan, and he finally plucks up the courage to say words to her instead of staring at her like a shy goldfish.” Raven shrugs. “Worked with you and Bellamy.”

“Sure, Raven. If you say so.”

(As it happens, Otan doesn’t need Raven’s betting pool--just a generous dose of Monty’s bartending.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a really long time since I wrote on this (as you all are well aware, I'm sure), and I don't know where my notes scampered off to, so if there's any inconsistency in who lives on the fifth floor... I don't know. I'm pretty sure I got it right, though.


End file.
